


Dreaming While I Wake

by Ayri



Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ADHD, Ableism, Ableist Language, Abused Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Abused Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Accents, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alcohol Mentions, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anger, Anger Management, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has PTSD, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Little Shit, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Artist Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Attempted Murder, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Banter, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Breathing issues, Bullying, Car Accidents, Cars, Character Thomas has Anxiety, Christianity References, Compulsive Liar, Confrontations, Coping, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Has ADHD, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Has PTSD, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders has Maladaptive Daydreaming, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders-centric, Crying, Cynicism, Depression, Dissociation, Doctors & Physicians, Dogs, Dragons, Drug Mentions, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Face Punching, Family Issues, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Food, Food Issues, Foster Care, Graffiti, Guns, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Insecurity, Insomnia, JDC, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Medical Examination, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Money, Morality | Patton Sanders Has Depression, Nightmares, No Characters Are Unsympathetic But They are People who Have Been Hurt And Act Accordingly, Non-Graphic Violence, Not a Diagnostic Tool, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Pining, Police, Police Brutality, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Recovery, Referenced Gruesome Scene, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Sass, School Related Stress, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Teen Angst, Teenage Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Teenage Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion, Teenagers, Therapist Dr. Emile Picani, Therapy, They will Eventually no Longer be as Toxic in the End, Thomas/Patton are Gay Foster Parents, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Wrongful Imprisonment, coping badly, death mention, emotional whiplash, food insecurity, religion references, rsd, selective mutism, shouting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 113,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayri/pseuds/Ayri
Summary: Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. These days, the bar is so low that all he's really looking for is his brother back and a good night's sleep. His luck hasn't been that great, though. But his new foster home is with twoliteral rays of sunshine(and a sarcastic asshole).  How is Roman going to keep pretending he's okay when years of baggage catch up to him?Roman-POV Abuse/Trauma Recovery Foster AUIf you have triggers, please check the tags. There are spoilers but also consume content safely!
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman Sanders & Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Thomas Sanders
Comments: 1508
Kudos: 835





	1. local foster kid discovers the concept of decent foster parents actually exists

**Author's Note:**

> **Read the tags if you have triggers**. _Please_. I am not responsible for your mental health, _you_ are. Do not start a fic you think might be upsetting. Do not hurt yourself with my content.  
>   
>  I am working on adding content warnings per chapter in the end notes for all the chapters. Said warnings _do have spoilers_ , so skip them if you do not want to be spoiled and can afford to do so. Things that are only mildly implied do get pointed out explicitly.  
>   
>  Please comment and let me know if you would like a tl;dr or summary added to a chapter.  
>  If you _do not_ have PTSD, please be aware that this is angst. Power Angst. Angsty _Angst_ -Angst. I hope you enjoy suffering.  
>   
>  Tags may change since, as usual, I don't know where this is going, I'm just here for the ride. Please let me know if I need to add any tags. The ships were picked randomly and I'll add them if they happen to appear in the story. Also updated as written.
> 
> ♪ [Dreaming While I Wake Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3jzYg1nfqsYjojt0jVV6Tc?si=OWyPj86zT6KdCxr-anOOvw) ♪

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is carted off to another foster family.

Roman didn’t know what he did wrong. This family was okay, and they mostly to tolerated him, but he was still gathering all of his things in a damned garbage bag. He had been there long enough to get comfortable and have friends. There was always food to eat, and they bought him the necessities sometimes. He had lots of chores, but they let him do whatever as long as the younger kids were happy. They even let him babysit other kids than their own so Roman could have some spending money. 

Now, Roman was at risk of ending up at another house that didn’t always have food and _wasn’t_ willing to buy him clothes or school supplies. Maybe a house that didn’t tolerate him and expressed it often. He _knew_ he could be annoying. But he couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t put up with him any longer and they never gave him a straight answer. Who is even going to watch their kids now that they’ve given Roman the boot? He never broke their rules on purpose and he thought the kids liked him. 

Roman sat despondently on the bed when the social worker came to pick him up. It was even an okay bed. He never minded the bottom bunk, and they let him pick out the sheets and everything. They weren’t the nicest or the most considerate people, but that didn’t mean Roman wanted to take his chances. They kept their gripes verbal. What was so wrong with him they were willing to throw him to the sharks? 

“Come on,” Mr. Hartley reminded him, motioning with his hand and standing in the doorway. Roman sighed and grabbed his bag and followed the social worker out of the door. “You don’t have to be like that, Roman,” Mr. Hartley tried to sound compassionate, but Roman could tell he was a little annoyed. 

“I think I do,” Roman grumbled bitterly. They walked in silence to the car, and Roman dumped himself and his trash bag of things dramatically in the backseat. 

“This new family is already fostering a boy a year older than you. They seem nice, passed inspection with flying colours,” Mr. Hartley offered in a offensive consolation. _Lots_ of them already fostered. Roman’s had so many foster siblings in his past he had lost count.

“But what does the kid think about them?” Roman asked sourly, placing his elbow on the car door and propping up his head in his hand.

“Well,” Mr. Hartley didn’t seem to know how to start. “He’s still grieving the loss of his parents,” He tried to explain or maybe excuse something. It wasn’t an answer either way. 

“Aren’t we all,” Roman grunted and exhaled aggressively. He stared out the window, watching the other cars go by as they pulled out of the neighbourhood into the uncertain city streets. The caseworker seemed to want to start again, but couldn’t find the words, so they rode in silence for a while. Roman appreciated the time to quietly fume. He pictured himself in all the places he’d rather be as he stared blankly at his own reflection in the window.

“So, your new foster parents are the Sanders family. Their names are Patton and Thomas. You’ll be in a new school district so you get another chance to start fresh there if you really focus and try your best this time,” Mr. Hartley informed him. Roman groaned and didn’t respond. He _was_ trying in school. It’s not as if he _intended_ to fall behind and get poor grades. “Your new foster brother only recently lost his parents this year, so try to be nice to him. He refuses to talk to his social worker. Thomas requested that we tell you beforehand that he needs space,” Mr. Hartley pleaded, sounding tired. 

“How’d they go? So I don’t have to bother him,” Roman never glanced away from the window. 

“Car accident with a drunk driver. He was in the car. So, be sensitive and don’t bring it up,” Mr. Hartley told him. Okay, that was pretty rough. He was glad he asked instead of letting his curiosity get the best of him later. They rode in silence for a while longer, and the question that had been haunting Roman for a while eventually overwrote his anger at the social worker. Mr. Hartley wasn’t available often, and Roman had begged him to find some information for Roman a few months ago.

“I know you had to take me away and all, but you know this fucking sucks,” Roman tried to breech the subject, and he was off to an ineloquent start.

“Roman, we’ve talked about your language, don’t use that word,” Mr. Hartley interjected. Roman groaned again, rolling his eyes. 

“Can you at least tell me where my brother is?” Roman asked, finally looking at the caseworker, briefly meeting his gaze in the rear-view mirror. 

“I’m not his caseworker. I don’t know for sure,” Mr. Hartley replied, sounding defeated. 

“Please? I’ll take anything,” Roman begged desperately, trying to catch his eye in the rear-view again. 

“The last I heard, he was in JDC. I’m not in the loop about his whereabouts and the system doesn’t say,” Mr. Hartley gave in with a sigh. 

“Remus is in juvie? Why did nobody tell me? What did he do?” Roman sat upright, leaning forward against his seatbelt and gripping the seat in front of him. 

“Sit back, Roman,” Mr. Hartley said firmly. “He started a fire in his foster parents’ house,” He sounded tired again, but Roman was too pissed off to care. 

“Holy shit, Remus wouldn’t do that!” Roman shot, sitting back and gesticulating widely. 

“Roman, language. The foster family insisted there was alcohol involved. His blood alcohol level was zero when they caught him, but maybe he was drunk,” Mr. Hartley recounted what he heard coolly. 

“Remus _wouldn’t_ drink!” Roman objected loudly. They promised each other they wouldn’t ever drink before being separated. They would not be _in_ this mess if it weren’t for their dad’s fucking drinking problem. He knew it had been years, but Roman refused to believe Remus ever would. 

“It happens sometimes, even if people have reason to hate it,” Mr. Hartley possibly tried to sound compassionate, but they were clearly getting frustrated. “I’ll try to get his contact information for you when I come back to see how you’re settled next week, okay?” He offered, and maybe he was trying to get Roman to calm down, but Roman hoped he meant it. 

“We’re 15. How did he even get the alcohol?” Roman growled, crossing his arms tightly. Roman could guess easily, but he’d always kept his finger crossed that Remus didn’t end up in the same kind of situations Roman did. Maybe it was too much to ask for.

“You have to know I can’t answer that question,” Mr. Hartley exhaled hard through his nose. “We’re almost there. You’re in the Anderson school distinct going to the public high school. The school is within walking distance, so there’s no bus. I have given the school councilor a heads up about your history. You’ll have a long weekend to settle in and go in early on Monday. I’ll be back next Friday night to see how you’re settled and then we go to mostly monthly as usual if that’s how things pan out,” He was trying to be nice about it, but the implication that this new foster family might give him the boot was there. Roman groaned again and returned to staring out the window. 

They pulled into a house with slate blue roof tiles and grey bricks. There was a small garden in the front yard and a decorative hedge against the front of the house. It looked calming, and the neighbourhood was certainly nice. Roman knew looks could deceive, but if they could keep those flowers alive, maybe they could care for a kid. The caseworker came around and opened the car door when Roman didn’t exit the car right away. 

“We’re already here, Roman, there’s no point in trying to delay any longer. Thomas and Patton took off work and are waiting for you inside. You can meet your foster brother when he gets out of school in the afternoon,” Mr. Hartley insisted and motioned for him to get out. Roman huffed and pulled himself to standing and grabbed his garbage bag of things. 

The house had a security door over the pristine white front door. The doormat said ‘wipe your paws’, which Roman rolled his eyes at, though he privately thought it was cute. The case worker knocked and Roman could hear an excited shout before the door burst open to reveal a tall man in a pale blue polo and black curls beaming at the two of them. Another man with a dark brown long top haircut in a red floral button-down shirt jogged up behind him. 

“Hi, kiddo!” The man in the blue polo shouted, beaming. Roman stumbled back on one foot from the volume.

“Patton, don’t scare him!” The other man chided him. Roman would have been amused if he wasn’t in such a foul mood from all this shit. Roman gave a weak wave and shrugged. 

“Roman, welcome home,” The guy in the red floral shirt said. “I’m Thomas Sanders and this is my very _excitable_ husband, Patton Sanders,” The man smiled and stepped out of the way for Roman and the caseworker to enter. Roman smiled weakly at him. Mr. Hartley started on his preliminary walk around with the checklist and left Roman standing in the entryway holding his bag of things. 

“It’s nice to put a face to the name, Mr. Hartley,” Patton said brightly, holding out his hand. Mr. Hartley took it and shook with a small smile. Patton looked down at Roman and his face dropped slightly.

“Is everything all right, champ?” Patton asked with concern in his eyes. Roman just shrugged. He didn’t care much for the posturing foster parents did for social workers. Patton gave a compassionate smile despite Roman’s lack of interaction. “Kind of overwhelmed? It’s okay, we can take it slow today,” Patton offered genially. Roman nodded to acknowledge Patton.

“Do I have to call you guys anything specific?” Roman asked mildly, trying to figure out his boundaries early so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Thomas responded with a small smile. “Would you like a tour? Patton can talk with your caseworker and finish settling things,” He suggested.

“Sure, whatever,” Roman replied complacently. ‘Whatever’s comfortable’ is a good sign. Unless it’s just more posturing for the social worker. Or some kind of test. Roman frowned and followed Thomas.

“Let’s start with your bedroom so you can put your stuff down. Come on, it’s the first door at the top of the stairs,” Thomas said and motioned him to follow down a hall and up some softly carpeted stairs. The white banister was dust free and there were nice photos of Thomas and Patton on the wall, along with various landscape and nature photos and a dog. 

The bedroom looked nice at first glance. There was a bookshelf with a wide variety of books, a desk, a full-sized bed, which is the biggest Roman will have ever slept in, and star LED lights hanging over the bed. Roman’s back still hurt from the ‘temporary’ trundle he had a few years back and he was thankful for a real bed again. The window was large with wooden blinds on it, and the desk had a lamp. Roman stepped in and placed his garbage bag in front of a pale oak dresser. The walls were off-white, and the carpet was the same plush beige colour that was in the hall. It also had a shelf stuffed with books, which was inviting.

“Do I have to share this room?” Roman asked, thinking maybe this room was too big for just him. Maybe there was a trundle under the bed for him. The thought gave him an involuntary shiver.

“No, your foster brother has the next room over. You don’t share it with anybody. I’d show you his room, but he isn’t comfortable with people in his space,” Thomas said soothingly, shaking his head a little. “You can decorate your own room. It’s kind of plain right now,” He added more brightly, motioning around the room.

“Really?” Roman’s face lit up. He never got to decorate his room much before. He wasn’t sure how he’d earn the money, but the option was exciting either way. It was supposed to be a nice neighbourhood, so he could probably find babysitting jobs again. Rich parents love the idea of teaching ‘social responsibility’ or whatever by giving teenagers eight bucks an hour to watch their kids while they went out and did rich people things. This was by far the nicest place he would have ever stayed, and this wasn’t even the fanciest house on the street.

“Yeah, we want you to be happy here. Are you ready for the rest of the tour?” Thomas asked, looking down to Roman gently. 

“Um, yeah, sure,” Roman replied, trying to quell his excitement. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Maybe they won’t let him pick up odd jobs or something. It could be one of those ‘technically you can’ scenarios. They might also kick him back and he’ll never get the chance.

“Great. This door across the hall is your bathroom. You’re sharing it with Virgil, but you’ll have your own shower kit,” Thomas motioned to the bathroom door.

“Virgil?” Roman stopped in the hall, confused. 

“That’s your foster brother,” Thomas clarified. Roman nodded in understanding. “Like I said, this door next to yours is his room. The room across to his is Patton’s office. The next room over is mine and Patton’s. You can come to us any time if you need something,” Thomas told him warmly. He turned around and headed back downstairs. “Let’s head downstairs,” He waved with his hand to motion for Roman to follow.

Thomas and Roman descended the stairs and turned into the living room. There was a big fluffy brown L-shaped couch and a nice flat screen in the corner of the living room. They even had some game systems hooked up to it. The windows were huge, and there was a sliding door behind some vertical blinds to the backyard. 

“This is the living room. If you like games, we can set you up as a user on the systems. We’ve already got an account for you on this laptop,” Thomas motioned to a metallic white laptop on a side table next to the couch. Thomas looked around at the games hopefully. “You can use it any time it’s free, though you will have to share it. Nothing unsavoury on the family laptop, please,” Thomas added. Roman crinkled his face in disgust. Roman hoped they didn’t have such a low opinion of him already. Thomas laughed brightly. 

“I’m glad we agree,” Thomas stated humorously. “This next room over is another office. I work from home at this one. I’m a writer so I keep weird hours. If you can’t find me, I’m probably holed up in here. I don’t mind if you want to just sit on the small couch in there and read quietly while I’m working if it’s lonely in the house,” Thomas explained. Roman smiled slightly. It was surprisingly considerate thing to offer. Thomas led them through the living room to the kitchen, passing Patton and Mr. Hartley talking in hushed tones.

“Here’s the kitchen. You’re welcome to anything you like, but don’t spoil your appetite for meals. Patton’s determined to eat breakfast and dinner together. He gets very, very sad if you aren’t hungry then,” Thomas said with got an odd smile when he explained Patton’s emotional reaction. Thomas moved to another door in the kitchen, next to what looked like the pantry from the sliding door. 

“Here’s the laundry room. You’ll be doing your own laundry, but we’re happy to help you with it and show you how to use the machines. Through the next door is the garage. There is a treadmill and a set of weights in there. There’s also a mini-fride of drinks for exercising you’re welcome to,” Thomas finished and held out his arms. “That’s everything! I hope you like it. Let’s see if the social worker needs anything else,” Thomas requested, and they headed back into the living room. Mr. Hartley was standing near the entranceway, talking with Patton. Patton was extremely animated when he talked this time around.

“Ah, Roman. Would you two gentlemen excuse us for a moment so I can ask him some questions?” Mr. Hartley asked. Patton smiled and nodded, walking into the kitchen. Thomas nodded and joined Patton after a small wave at Roman. “Roman, do you feel safe and comfortable here?” He asked the regular thing he always did.

“Um, yeah. They really _do_ seem nice,” Roman replied dismissively, echoing Mr. Hartley’s earlier sentiment. 

“Great! Because you would have had to stay in one of those awful holding centres while we found a new placement for you. You didn’t like it there last time,” Mr. Hartley smiled cheerily. Roman groaned. He really hated those damned centres. “I know this sucks, but we have to make the best of things or we’ll just waste away. You have your own room here, I found nothing shady, and this area is safe. I’ll see you next week, okay?” Mr. Hartley tried to reassure him, and it was nice he sounded relieved and less weary than earlier. 

“With some way to contact Remus?” Roman requested hopefully, wringing his hands together. 

“If I can get a hold of it, I’ll bring it. If he’s in the middle of placement, I won’t be able to get anything,” Mr. Hartley responded, trying not to sound too positive and get Roman’s hopes up. Roman sighed and waved. At least he would try, which is better than Roman could normally ask for.

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mr. Sanders,” Mr. Hartley called from the front hall. “I’ll see you next Friday at 6 PM,” Thomas and Patton emerged from the kitchen around the corner, Patton rushing out and Thomas walking with his hands in his pockets.

“Bye!” Patton called after him, and walked excitedly over to Roman. Mr. Hartley nodded to Roman and waved back before opening the front door and leaving.

“So, I know you’ve had a long morning. What do you want to do?” Patton asked with a warm smile. 

“What I want to do? It’s your house,” Roman raised his eyebrow incredulously. “I do whatever you want me to,” He pointed out.

“You live here now, too, kiddo! We know it’s rough to start over like you did. We’ll understand if you want to be alone to settle in for a bit and unpack your things. But if you’re hungry or want to decorate your room, we can head out,” Patton offered sweetly. It was about lunchtime, so Roman should probably eat. “We’d like to be here when Virgil gets home, though, so if you want to go shopping we should leave soon,” Patton added. 

“I’ve only got like five dollars, guys,” Roman said dismissively. That must have been the wrong thing to say because Patton looked affronted. Shit. 

“We never said you’d have to pay, champ!” Patton insisted, looking concerned and leaning down slightly to meet Roman’s eyes. 

“Roman, you’re still a kid, don’t worry about money. It’s the only time of your life you don’t have to do so. We’ll let you know what we can do or not, okay?” Thomas informed him mildly. Roman couldn’t help but regard him suspiciously. Adults always _say_ things are fine until they’re not and never point out the line that got crossed. Adults are always concerned about expenses. Roman never met an exception to that rule.

“Okay. I wouldn’t mind going out,” Roman picked what Patton clearly wanted to do. He’d rarely gotten to go out before, and it could be cool. Better than staring at the wall and letting his mind wander, anyway. Anything to keep his mind off Remus being in juvie. 

“To eat or to shop?” Thomas asked, pulling a pair of keys out of his pocket.

“Both!” Patton said excitedly, holding open his arms. “Fast food!” He declared exhuberantly. Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“That stuff is terrible for you, Patton. Sometimes I’m worried you don’t like my cooking,” Thomas responded admonishingly but didn’t seem _actually_ annoyed. Roman couldn’t be sure, though. The ire wasn’t pointed his way, but Roman knew firsthand that it was very easy to get punished for somebody else’s mistakes. He backed up slightly and kept his distance just to be safe. Mr. Hartley had left, and there were no guarantees for how things would go for Roman.

“I _love_ your cooking, Thomathy, but it’s just a treat! What would you like for lunch, kiddo?” Patton asked with a mischievous grin, leaning down to talk to him again.

“Um, I don’t know. Tacos?” Roman suggested, feeling confused. He was a little surprised by being put on the spot and just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind that he could eat on the go. He at least liked tacos.

“The boy wants tacos, and you would _deny_ him such pleasures?” Patton whined, standing up again to face Thomas, fluttering his eyelashes.   
  
“Fine, we can have fast food tacos, as a treat. But I don’t want to see any food crumbs in my car tomorrow,” Thomas conceded. “Do you want to grab anything from your things before we go?” Thomas asked, uncrossing his arms when he looked at Roman.

“No,” Roman said, half smiling at how easily Thomas gave into Patton. Thomas headed into the kitchen, probably towards the interior garage door. Patton smiled widely and skipped along after him. Roman stuffed his hands nervously into his pants pockets and followed them out, continuing to keep his distance.

The Sanders and Roman had pulled into the drive-through ‘Mexican’ food place a short while later. One wasn’t too far from their home. Roman didn’t really recognize this area, but it seemed mostly suburban, with lots of strip malls and plenty of high-end shops. They told Roman he could get whatever he wanted, but he knew from experience that didn’t always _mean_ ‘whatever he wanted’. Roman asked for the cheapest taco combo just to be safe. He wouldn’t have said no to an apple empanada, but he didn’t want to push it. 

Patton had ordered an orange empanada for himself and Roman was a little jealous as he carefully ate his tacos. He got a soda with the combo, though, and he relished the pick me up. He was already kind of exhausted as much as he wanted to be out doing things instead of sitting home being bored like he usually was, even if he was working. He was still a little in shock that the Sanders seemed like pleasant people and didn’t impose a ton of rules as soon as the caseworker left the house. 

“Patton, you’re making a giant mess. You’ll be vacuuming out the car when you get home,” Thomas said, sounding a little frustrated as he pulled back out on to the road.

“It’s a fair tradeoff, love,” Patton cooed and Thomas huffed slightly, but he seemed amused instead of annoyed. “Are there any clothes you need while we’re at the department store, kiddo?” Patton asked, turning his head to face Roman over his shoulder.

“I, uh, could use some new shoes and a jacket,” Roman stuttered out, shaken from his thoughts and tacos. He didn’t have a jacket at the moment, and they always kept classrooms cold.

“Sounds good!” Patton declared and returned to his food. They asked him directly, but it made Roman nervous. You’re not supposed to have wants in the foster system. You’re supposed to just pretend you don’t exist and survive on your own. It was nice being asked, at least. Things normally went easier for Roman when they offered instead of Roman having to ask for something he needed. The hopefulness couldn’t defeat his sour mood, though.

If Roman could pick _anything_ he wanted, it’d be having his brother back. He heard juvie was dreadful. There’s no way Remus did anything they claimed he did. Roman fumed quietly in the back seat, slowly sipping his soda to cool down. He tried to focus on the music coming from the radio, but he couldn’t stop his brain from going back to Remus and the shitty situation he was stuck in. There really was no justice in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 Warnings:  
>  Implied Bad Situations, Food, Discussion of Juivinlle Detention Center, Implied Bad Guardians, Death mention, Car Accident Mention, Alcohol Mention, Money Issues
> 
> Welcome to roman's personal hell <3 <3 <3


	2. kind people being in your local communities? it's more likely than you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Thomas try to make Roman comfortable with mixed success.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Patton said, passing Roman back a penny. Roman looked at it in confusion and looked up to Patton, sitting in the front seat of the car. “You’re in another galaxy, kiddo, and we’re almost at the store. What’s going on up in that noggin of yours?” Patton asked brightly, straining against his seatbelt to face Roman in the back seat.

“Nothing,” Roman said dismissively, looking down at the fast-food garbage in his hands. He carefully folded up his trash and put it back in the takeout bag, then took a long draw from his soda while Patton looked expectantly at him.

“Well, okay, champ. We’ll go pick out some decorations at the store first,” Patton smiled affectionately. Which was weird. They’ve known each other for all of an hour? “If we ask _super nicely,_ Thomas might let us get things to make a homemade pizza for dinner,” Patton turned back to Thomas and asked, trying to make it sound as tempting as possible. Roman couldn’t help but take the bait.

“What?” Roman looked up in excitement. “You can do that?” Roman asked expectantly. Thomas could make pizza from scratch? He wanted to learn how to do that. That was so cool!

“I’ll get the stuff for pizza, Pat,” Thomas laughed. “Virgil really liked it last time,” He added, making a turn into the parking lot. “And a salad. I’ll get some vegetables in you today if it kills me,” Thomas muttered as he parked. Roman was pretty certain he wasn’t supposed to hear that part, so he tried not to laugh. The three walked in together, but Thomas grabbed a basket while Patton wiped down a cart. Thomas waved as he left to get ingredients while Patton and Roman headed into the housewares section.

“Just point out whatever you want, kiddo, and we can narrow it down later if we need to. I want to get an idea of what you like,” Patton informed him, motioning to the aisle they were in. Roman looked around the aisle for something affordable, things he could feasibly pay them back for with enough babysitting jobs or mowed lawns. There was a rack of posters for five each, and he flicked through the sample panels. There was a really cool looking poster with a high fantasy castle and dragons flying he liked, so he picked that.

“I like this poster,” Roman said as he put the roll on the cart, feeling satisfied. He could pay that back, and it would make the walls less empty.

“Great, what else do you like?” Patton asked, nodding at Roman. Shit, he had to do it again? Roman went back over to the posters, being the most affordable things in the aisle, and flicked through the rack. There was a classic _Disney_ villains type of poster that was really cool. He liked the _Disney_ heroes poster, too, but it was a little cheesy for a kid his age to have up. _Disney_ maybe was pushing it, too, but Remus loved the villains as a kid and this kind of reminded Roman of him in a way that didn’t hurt so much. Remus loved playing the villain when they play fought.

“Um, I also like this one?” Roman said hesitantly, pulling the roll from the rack and holding it. Patton took it and placed it in the cart with a light smile.

“Sounds good. What about something for your desk?” Patton offered, pointing to a shelf with desk organizers and paper weights and those kinds of things. There was an interesting one that caught Roman’s eye, so he picked up to look at it. It was golden and sort of geometric shaped, and it had enough slots to fit all of his coloured pencils without them flopping around in the bottom of his backpack and getting broken. Patton smiled and took it from him, dropping it into the cart. Roman wasn’t able to check the price on it before Patton directed his attention again elsewhere. He wasn’t sure if it was safe to object, so he stayed quiet.

“How about something cozy? Do you like any of these pillows or throws?” Patton asked, taking him an aisle over. All the different colours and textures enticed Roman and couldn’t help but touch basically everything. There was a lot going on in the aisle and he kept switching around, feeling the various soft things just because they looked like they would feel cool. “There are lots of good options! What kind of blankets do you like?” Patton asked patiently, sort of kicking Roman back into the present and out of blanket-petting land.

“Thick and fluffy,” Roman answered, looking around. He spotted a cool burgundy one that looked like you could be buried in it, it was so thick. “Like this one,” Roman pointed out and pulled it from the stack of blankets.

“Do you like that colour?” Patton inquired, taking it from Roman’s hands. “Oh, it’s very fluffy,” Patton said, petting the fabric himself.

“Yeah, I’m not really against any colours,” Roman replied, glancing around at the blankets again.

“Sounds good!” Patton smiled brightly, throwing the blanket in the cart. “What else would you like in your room?” He asked cheerily. What, the throw, too? These were like twenty bucks. Roman must have owed them at least fifty bucks by now. That would take him at least a month or two to earn, and that’s if he could find enough jobs to do so.

“This is plenty of stuff,” Roman muttered. He couldn’t possibly afford any more. This stuff was more than he had picked for his room in a long time, either way.

“Well, how about this nifty pillow? Check this out,” Patton said, lifting a black sequin pillow and running his finger along the sequins and flipping them. When he pulled his finger across it revealed a metallic rainbow on the underside of the sequins. Roman had reached out and started tracing designs into the pillow. He heard Patton chuckle and vaguely recognized that Patton was moving and he should follow, but most of his focus was sucked into making a lion in the pillow’s sequins.

“What sheets do you want, kiddo?” Patton asked, snapping Roman out of his art excursion with the pillow. He dropped it in the cart to put back later before he spaced out again. He looked around and pointed to the cheapest plain white sheets.

“These are fine,” Roman replied. He liked white since they were easy to clean, and they were cheap.

“No, they’re not. They have no _character_. Get something you can’t wait to see and lay down in every day, Roman. Not boring scratchy sheets,” Patton objected adamantly. Roman looked around in confusion. He didn’t really know what that meant. Roman looked around until his eyes landed on a bed set that was crisp red and gold. It looked inviting and fluffy as heck. He kind of wanted to squeeze the packaging. Patton must have caught his eye line because Patton threw it in the cart before Roman said anything. “That’s the response I was looking for,” Patton said proudly. “Let’s get you some curtains to match and find some shoes. Dad’ll probably meet us over there,” Roman was concerned, but followed obediently.

Grabbing matching curtains was just an aisle over and Patton picked some thick ones the same shade of red as the bed set and some gold rings for it, so they were in the shoe aisle quickly afterward. Patton was offended at how tight Roman’s old shoes were compared to the new ones and insisted on buying two pairs of shoes. Roman got some sneakers and a pair of waterproof boots in a whirlwind of action.

Roman would probably grow out of them soon, so he didn’t see the point. But Patton looked so upset about it that Roman that he couldn’t bring himself to object. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, really. He was feeling overwhelmed. They were in the clothes section right after for the jacket, and Roman found a white bomber jacket he liked on the clearance rack. But Thomas had also pushed Roman on to buying a few more clothes than just a jacket, citing the shirt with the streched out collar Roman was wearing. Roman was really worried about what all this spending meant for him. He couldn’t help but recall the things that had happened in the past when Roman got too expensive.

They had veered into the electronics section on the way to the registers, and Roman waited anxiously by the cart while Thomas went over to the counter. Things were suddenly bright and loud, and he just wanted to get back to the car and pretend none of this ever happened for a few blissful minutes. He had no idea how he could pay these back. He didn’t have a job lined up yet. He literally just got here this afternoon. Roman twined his fingers in the holes in the cart and shuffled his feet nervously as he waited, staring at the linoleum floor.

“Roman, kiddo, come pick out a phone case,” Patton called over to him from the racks of phone cases right near the register Thomas was talking to a representative at.

“For _what_?” Roman asked in confusion, looking to Patton as he walked over, running his nails along his fingertips.

“For your phone, silly,” Patton said brightly and motioned to the rack. “This row has the model. This one’s shiny!” He suggested, pointing to a glittery water case.

“I don’t have a phone,” Roman corrected him. It’s not like the state issued them phones. He didn’t have a clue what Patton was talking about.

“We’re getting you a phone right now, Roman, so you can always reach us and vice versa. It’s not safe to let you leave the house without one these days,” Patton explained sagely, nodding to himself. Roman froze in terror. Oh, that’s a lot of money. That’s too much money. That’s _way_ too much money. He couldn’t… He held himself and tried to take a deep breath.

“What?” He croaked out, feeling very small. Patton looked at him with concern and squatted down in front of him.

“What’s wrong, Roman?” He asked very carefully, meeting Roman’s eyes. Roman just shook his head. “Roman, you have to talk to me. I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” Patton prodded him gently, but Roman’s brain felt like it was on fire.

“I… that’s… that’s too much money. These are smartphone cases,” Roman whispered, squeezing himself a little tighter and digging his nails into his arms. Patton smiled gently and started to put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, but Roman flinched away reflexively and looked at the floor, trying not to cause a scene.

“It’s not your job to worry about money, kiddo,” Patton offered compassionately. “It’s important to us you have a phone,” He insisted, looking even more concerned if that was possible. Roman couldn’t meet Patton’s gaze and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I can’t repay that, Patton,” Roman whispered. “I can’t do the things I’d have to do to repay that much, I just can’t, not again,” His voice cracked and his breath hitched.

“You don’t have to repay anything, Roman, this is from your guardians, not a debt,” Patton said. Roman squeezed his eyes shut and backed up slightly. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I need you to breathe with me,” Roman shook his head, not really processing what Patton was saying. His brain kept looping that he owed them and he was in trouble for talking back and making a scene and he didn’t feel like he could get enough air. Roman took another blind step backward and shook his head again.

“Roman, I will count out a breathing pattern and you’re going to follow it, okay?” Patton said steadily. Roman choked slightly but nodded. If he could avoid getting in more trouble, he would do it. “Breath in through your nose for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Great, hold it for me. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Let it out through your mouth as slowly as possible. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. You’re doing awesome. Let’s do it again, a little longer this time,” Patton said soothingly, and they started over. 

Roman followed his instructions obediently, not sure why they were doing this, but unwilling to make things worse for himself. Patton stayed just as gentle and even-keeled the first time, even when Roman’s breath shuddered and he had to restart a count. He opened his eyes, and Patton was still looking at him with a soft smile.

“Are we okay over here?” Thomas asked. Roman stared ahead blankly, feeling incredibly drained. Patton stood up and whispered to Thomas. Roman was glad he could breathe again, but he was about ready to pass out and felt like he couldn’t string two thoughts together. He held onto the shelf to keep his balance.

“I’d love a gesture or a verbal confirmation that you’re okay, kiddo if you can give it,” Patton requested after a moment. Roman couldn’t bring his head to look up at him.

“I’m okay,” Roman creaked, sounding just as tired as he felt.

“That’s good. Do you want to pick a case or should I pick one for you?” Patton asked gently. Roman couldn’t deal with any of this.

“You,” Roman muttered. He walked back over to the cart and held onto it for stability. He felt exhausted and his vision was a little fuzzy as he wrapped his fingers back through the holes in the cart and leaned slightly against it, not feeling his fingers.

“How about we go out to the car and wait while dad checks out, okay?” Patton offered and held out his hand. Roman nodded and followed him into the car, wrapping his arms back around himself. He was incredibly embarrassed with himself and a too fatigued to care what was coming. He’s already made a scene and whatever punishment came would come. He didn’t particularly care anymore if it happened at the car or back at the house and just wanted to be done with today.

Roman stood next to the car, and Patton walked around to climb into the backseat. Roman followed suit, not really knowing what he was supposed to do. Roman leaned against the car door in the backseat as Patton sat next to him. There was a pause of silence between the two of them where Roman just listened to his own too-loud breathing.

“So, you’ve got some _anxiety_ about money, huh, kiddo,” Patton said, trying to sound offhanded, but failing specatcularly. He at least didn’t sound mad. Roman wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, though.

“I guess,” Roman muttered, holding himself loosely, too tired to hold himself close.

“I don’t know what happened in your old homes, but you don’t have to do anything to replay us. _Ever_. If we spend money on you, it’s because we want to and we’re prepared to. You will not get in trouble for wanting things,” Patton said softly. Roman squeezed his eyes shut again and shook his head.

“So are you going to punish me for making a scene?” Roman asked tentatively. He may as well get this over with. He still couldn’t feel his fingers. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“ _Heavens_ , no!” Patton exclaimed, aghast. “You don’t get to _pick_ your fears, or nobody would _have_ them! What kind of monsters would punish someone for having a panic attack?” Patton replied emphatically, sounding a little sour at the whole concept. Roman didn’t think Patton _actually_ wanted the answer to that. He held himself tighter and tried to take a deep breath. “Oh, baby,” He heard Patton say sadly. “I’m so sorry,” He apologized for some reason.

“It’s fine,” Roman offered, not opening his eyes.

“It’s the least fine thing I can think of at the moment,” Patton said sadly. “Do you want a hug?” Roman opened his eyes and looked carefully over to Patton.

Patton held his arms open invitingly, but didn’t move closer. His eyes seemed to be shining with sadness, but he still had a small smile. A hug sounded nice. His skin kind of hurt and maybe a hug would help. Roman nodded and scooted closer to Patton. He couldn’t bring himself to release his arms, but he let Patton wrap around him and leaned into the hug. He let out a shuddering sigh and tried not to cry, as much as he felt his eyes burn with the desire to.

The car shook, and Roman pulled away quickly to see the commotion. The trunk was open, so it must have been Thomas loading the purchases in the back. Roman didn’t really want to think about that and leaned back against the window, staring blankly forward. Patton kept a supportive hand on Roman’s shoulder and didn’t make a move otherwise. The contact made him both somewhat uncomfortable, since adults touching him wasn’t usually a good thing. But he liked the warmth from Patton’s hand. Roman still stayed wary of any motion, though.

“Aren’t you going to go sit in the front?” Roman asked quietly, stealing a quick glance at Patton before staring at the headrest of the passenger’s seat.

“I’d rather stay back here if that’s okay with you,” Patton told him calmly. Roman nodded and shifted so he could buckle in. Patton did as well, but never took his hand off Roman’s shoulder. He decided appreciated the contact for now, but he reserved the right to be skittish. “So do you have any hobbies, kiddo?” Patton changed the subject.

“I like movies and music,” Roman offered. It was a boring answer, but he didn’t have many options while he was busy taking care of the other kids. He wasn’t sure he even had hobbies after he got separated from Remus. “I also sketch stuff and play Minecraft,” He added, wondering if that wasn’t enough.

“Those are fun! We have movie nights on Sunday night. Maybe you want to join us this weekend?” Patton suggested, sounding very upbeat.

“That could be cool,” Roman responded, afraid of giving a resolute answer. “Do… you guys do any other group activities?” Roman asked a little awkwardly. Patton seemed to want to talk, so he tried to maintain the conversation.

“Well, Thomas and I go out on dates sometimes, but Virgil isn’t much of a joiner to make those kinds of traditions. He’s only been to two movie nights himself,” Patton replied, and Roman felt him lean back in the seat.

“How long have you had him?” Roman kept up the conversation with the first thing he thought of.

“A little over two months. He’s still really shaken up about the accident, and we think he didn’t have a good time in his first two foster homes. He doesn’t talk to us, and we’d like to ask you not to push him,” Patton responded, sounding uneasy.

“Yeah, my caseworker warned me,” Roman nodded once, hoping it was the right thing to say. Thomas got into the car and started it up.

“Homeward Bound!” Thomas announced, pointing dramatically before backing out of the parking space.

“That’s such a sad movie,” Patton bemoaned what he could only assume was Thomas’s choice of words.

“Then, _off we go into the great wide somewhere_ ,” Thomas sang a tune to _Beauty and the Beast_. Roman thought he had a delightful singing voice.

“Aw, now _that’s_ a great movie,” Patton cooed. “Do you like _Disney_ movies, kiddo?” Patton asked, sounding much more upbeat.

“Of course? Who doesn’t,” Roman replied resolutely, loosening up his grip on himself a bit. He finally brought himself to look away from the headrest.

“What’s you’re favourite one?” Thomas asked, looking at Roman in the rearview mirror.

“How can you pick a favourite? They’re all so fantastic,” Roman insisted. “That’s like asking which _molecule of air_ you breathe is the best one,” Roman looked to Patton. Patton chuckled slightly and nodded in agreement.

“That’s true,” Patton smiled and relaxed back into the car seat. “What kind of music do you like?” He asked. Roman wasn’t sure what all the questions were about, but they were all nice ones and he appreciated the distraction.

“Bops,” Roman replied automatically and nodded sagely.

“Bops…?” Patton asked in confusion.

“Well, bops, bangers, and anthems,” Roman added on to his original answer and twisted his hand in the air.

“I don’t think that’s what he was asking, Roman,” Thomas informed him with a chuckle.

“Jams, sometimes?” Roman looked to Patton in confusion, unsure what was wrong with his answer.

“I think he means which _genres_ you enjoy,” Thomas clarified for Patton.

“Um, most of it? I’m not into industrial metal or sad country songs,” Roman replied, still feeling a little confused.

“That’s a lot of music,” Patton said, sounding impressed. “You even like classical music?”

“Most _Disney_ background soundtracks are classical, it would be _sacrilegious_ if I didn’t like them,” Roman insisted emphatically. He also just felt inspired by instrumental music, but that sounded dumb.

“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?” Patton asked, looking somewhat amused.

“Me? _Dramatic_? Never,” Roman laughed sarcastically but was stifled by a yawn. He finally let go of himself to cover his mouth as it stretched painfully with his exhaustion.

“You can lie down on the couch for a bit when we get home, kiddo. I’ve got to wash your sheets before you can lie in bed,” Patton offered. Roman stiffened, remembering all the things in the trunk, and Patton gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Roman,” He added. It didn’t _feel_ okay.

“No, it’s fine, I can help,” Roman blurted out. He felt like he had to do something. He couldn’t _not_ do something when things had to be done. That wasn’t allowed.

“No, no, let us handle it. I’d feel much better if you laid down for a bit before Virgil got home,” Patton squeezed Roman’s shoulder again. Roman huffed and sat back. It felt like conflicting interests, but he also didn’t want to get in trouble for arguing. He looked over to Patton, who was giving him a soft smile, and Roman nodded.

“I’m glad that’s settled since we’re almost home,” Thomas said, pulling into the neighbourhood.

Roman laid back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying his best not to freak out again about not helping as Patton and Thomas unloaded the car. He closed his eyes and did his best not to focus on the sounds of shuffling effort around him. When Thomas passed the couch, he unfolded a big afghan and draped it over Roman. Roman shifted under its warmth and took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m going to start the pizza dough, Pat,” Thomas said in the kitchen.

“Yay!” Patton cheered. Roman was curious how to make pizza dough, but now that he was laying down, he really didn’t want to get up. And he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. They told him specifically to lie on the couch. He hated sitting still and doing nothing, but he didn’t want to get in trouble for disobeying. He felt the afghan structure between his fingers and hummed to himself as something to do, but laying there was agonizing. Roman yawned again and closed his eyes. At least the couch was comfortable.

Roman woke a little while later, Patton suddenly at his feet at the bend of the couch. Roman blinked and looked around, feeling confused. He could have sworn he was humming a song from _Sleeping Beauty_ and not sleeping.

“Did I fall asleep?” Roman asked and rubbed his eyes, leaning up on one arm.

“Yup! That’s okay, kiddo, you’ve had a long day,” Patton told him with a little nod of approval.

“Sorry,” Roman mumbled and pulled himself to sit up.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Would you help me finish setting up your phone? I don’t know your e-mail address so I can’t start,” Patton said, picking up another phone with a bright red case from next to him. Roman took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” Roman replied, hearing the uncertainty in his own voice. Patton moved to sit next to him, handing Roman the phone and wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders.

“You’ve got this, Roman. Thomas and I need you to have one,” Patton softly reassured him. Roman nodded and swallowed and took the phone out of Patton’s hands to enter his e-mail. He handed it back to Patton, who clicked through the rest of the menus. He took his arm back and added three contacts, Thomas, himself, and Virgil. He included in e-mail addresses and their home and work addresses to the contacts. Patton’s was an animal hospital.

“You work at the vet?” Roman asked, interested.

“I _am_ the vet!” Patton replied proudly.

“I’m surprised you don’t have pets,” Roman hummed, rubbing his face again. It felt all puffy and gross.

“Oh, Lita’s around here somewhere. She gets nervous around new people, so she’s probably been hiding in our bedroom all afternoon,” Patton responded, still tapping around on the phone. Roman pulled his mouth to one side and furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s a Jack Russell Terrier. She was raised with the vet office cats, though, so she has some cat-like mannerisms,” Patton must have noticed Roman’s confusion.

“Lita? Like from _Sailor Moon_?” Roman blinked a few times. He’d seen that show with the kids a few times.

“Oh, most people guess the retired wrestler. Good guess! She’s just like her. A big heart, but also high-energy and ready to throw down at any given moment,” Patton smiled and went back to doing things with the phone.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people tell us we should have named her Makoto,” Thomas huffed, sitting down next to Patton on the couch. Roman didn’t realize he had come in the living room from the kitchen.

“What?” Roman was confused about who that was.

“I grew up watching the American version. The name just stuck,” Thomas shrugged, picking up the remote. Roman had only ever seen the American version, so he didn’t even know her name in the Japanese version.

“I would have guessed _Patton_ named her after a cartoon character,” Roman chuckled weakly. Roman thought Patton was much more cartoonish than Thomas. Though they both kind of seemed like they belonged on TV. They seemed to good to be true.

“Oh, I love cartoons just as much as Pat. Do you want to watch one? We’ve got another half-hour until Virgil gets home,” Thomas loaded up a streaming service.

“Sure,” Roman nodded, kicking off his shoes to pull his feet up to his chest on the couch. Patton handed him the phone, which Roman took hesitantly.

“It’s yours now, kiddo. I’m sure you’ll keep it safe,” Patton pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Make sure you add security and keep it locked,” Patton told him. Roman swallowed a nodded, holding the phone carefully and looking between it and Patton. Roman took another deep breath and tried to focus on the TV instead of freaking out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Warnings:  
> Money Issues, Implied Unsafe Environment, Implied Abuse, Implied Child Endangerment, Food, Overstimulation, Anxiety, Panic Attack, Trouble Breathing
> 
> press F to pay respects for Roman's shitty past home life /j


	3. nothing noteworthy happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night is always a little weird.

“Welcome back, Virgil!” Patton called from the couch when he heard the front door open. “Can you come into the living room before you head upstairs?” There was no response, but a lanky teen stepped into the living room instead of pivoting up the stairs like he obviously wanted to from his body angle and grip on the rail. He was buried in a purple plaid hoodie that looked two sizes too big and dressed in all black otherwise. His hair was black, and he had on some weird makeup under his eyes. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room and just stood there, holding his backpack with one arm, standing off-center.

“Virgil, this is Roman,” Thomas said. Roman waved slightly. “Remember us talking about him coming today?” The kid rolled his eyes and waved sarcastically. Roman wasn’t even aware you could wave sarcastically, but he definitely was.

“Dad’s making homemade pizza tonight!” Patton informed him enthusiastically. Virgil nodded again slightly and turned and bolted up the stairs.

Roman didn’t terribly mind being ignored right now. He was positive he looked like a mess after this afternoon. He normally liked a bit of attention, but right now he thought he’d much more like another nap. Roman pulled the afghan up off the couch and wrapped up back in it. Thomas restarted the cartoon, and they went back to watching. Roman restlessly fidgeted with the tassels at the edge of the afghan with his eyes on the screen.

“I’ve got to get up and start the pizza for dinner,” Thomas said a little while later. He kissed Patton’s forehead as he got up and waved to Roman. Roman was a little dazed and watched him leave the room.

“Are you doing okay, champ?” Patton asked, looking over to him.

“Yeah,” Roman mumbled, rubbing his face.

“That’s good to hear. Do you want to help me set up your room? The laundry should all be done now,” Patton asked gently. “It’s okay if you don’t, but if you pick where the clothes go, it will be easier for you to find them tomorrow,”

“Yeah, okay,” Roman said a little and extracted himself from the afghan. He folded it when he stood up and draped it over the back of the couch. Patton came out of the kitchen with a laundry basket a moment later and Roman followed him up to his new bedroom.

Someone had already brought his other decorations up, since they were all sitting on his desk, along with a pair of unopened bluetooth headphones. Roman sighed and focused on the bedroom for now. Patton started separating the sheets and curtains from the rest of the laundry and handed Roman the fitted sheet. They made up the bed in silence. Patton pulled down the curtain rod and Roman helped him slide on the new curtains before placing it back on the hooks.

“Do you help with the clothes, kiddo?” Patton asked, motioning towards the laundry basket.

“No, I’ve got it,” Roman said, eying the basket suspiciously. There better not be any more surprises in there or he might lose it. Patton paused in the bedroom, observing him carefully. “I’ll be okay,” He reassured Patton, who looked nervous.

“Okay, Roman. I’ll trust you. I’ll be in my bedroom trying to coax Lita out to let her outside,” Patton told him and left the room with a small wave.

Roman nodded and sat on the floor, untying the garbage bag with the rest of his things. Roman dutifully folded up his clothes into the dresser and hung his shirts in the closet for a while. There still wasn’t much, even with the new clothes. Roman had hit another growth spurt at 14 and had grown out of most of his clothes. He also pulled the few mementos and other personal possessions out of the trash bag. He used the empty bag to line the can he found under his desk. Roman placed a few of the old toys on top of the dresser and his books and school things on the desk.

Roman hesitated when he pulled the photo album out of the stack of _Harry Potter_ paperbacks he’d placed on his desk. He stole a look at the end of the book with the most recent photo he had of Remus. It had been years now. Remus was his twin, but Roman couldn’t help but wonder how different he looked from the 10-year-old staring back at him with a gap in his teeth and holding a foam sword. Roman sighed and finished moving around his things. They left a pack of poster strips with the posters, and Roman hung them on either side of the window. There was something satisfying about that wall now that cheered Roman up a bit.

Roman exhaled and kicked off his new shoes to lay back on his new bed. He reveled in the soft sheets and giant size for a moment before he felt bad again. He did nothing to deserve all of this. Roman cringed and balled up, flicking the sequins on the throw pillow he didn’t get a chance to put back. Roman closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Patton poked his head in on the open door after a few moments of Roman trying to get a hold of himself. He still looked a little concerned, but he didn't seem to acknowledge Roman's inner turmoil this time. He was thankful Patton was willing to drop this one. He didn't want to talk about it... basically ever. 

“Hey kiddo, the pizza is ready! Would you like to come down to dinner?” Patton requested hopefully, holding up a finger. 

“I wouldn’t miss fresh pizza for the world,” Roman replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking to the door.

“I’ll let Virgil know and meet you downstairs,” Patton nodded with a smile as Roman passed to head to the kitchen. The downstairs smelled divine. A symphony of garlic and oregano danced with the yeasty crust and cheese. Roman quickened his pace and skid on his socks into the table.

“Hey, Roman, happy to see you excited!” Thomas said as he ran the roller cutter across the pizza.

“It just smells so damn good,” Roman said reverently, sitting on a chair at the already set table.

“Patton’ll have a heart attack if you cuss around him, try not to,” Thomas slightly chided him. He didn’t seem too bothered himself, though.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered. He was terrible at controlling his mouth, and it always got him in trouble.

“I’ll take it as a compliment this time around,” Thomas chuckled. “Go ahead and serve yourself,” Roman excitedly took a slice of pizza and scooped out a side of salad onto his plate as Patton and Virgil walked into the kitchen. Patton stopped and hugged Thomas as he was rinsing the cutter in the sink. Virgil walked right past them and took a slice of pizza and started eating it as soon as he sat down, pulling his feet up onto the chair.

“Careful, there, Virgil, that’s still a bit hot,” Patton warned, but Virgil just kept eating. Patton shook his head slightly and sat down at the table with Thomas. They served themselves pizza and salad and started eating.

“Was everything okay at school today, Virgil?” Thomas asked. Virgil nodded. Thomas took a bite of salad and paused. “Do you need any help with your homework tonight?” Thomas asked another question. Virgil shook his head and sipped some water. Roman watched them with interest. Did this Virgil kid talk at all?

“We had a nice day with Roman today. Maybe we can do something as a family tomorrow?” Patton asked. Virgil didn’t nod or shake his head this time. “Do you have other plans?” Patton continued. Virgil shook his head. “Are you worried about what we’d do?” Virgil nodded this time.

“We can pick it together. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Thomas offered. Virgil nodded after a moment of quiet chewing.

“Great!” Patton exclaimed and enjoyed his pizza.

“Um, what kind of things were you thinking of?” Roman asked.

“We have a few options. We can do a bracket later,” Patton said in between bites.

“A bracket?” Roman asked curiously before taking another bite of the amazing pizza.

“It’s how we pick things like dinner or activities when we can’t decide, or there are lots of options. We pit the choices one versus one on a bracket board like a tournament. It makes it easier for Patton and Virgil to pick things,” Thomas explained. A little white and brown dog trotted into the kitchen. “It was a nightmare getting Patton to pick where to go when we were dating and we have stuck with the brackets ever since,” Patton flushed slightly, but he didn’t seem that upset.

“Lita!” Patton exclaimed. “Good to see you, girl,” Patton cooed.

“Don’t you dare feed that dog your pizza, Pat,” Thomas chided Patton as he started to pick a topping off. “That’s people pizza,” Thomas said firmly. Patton sighed dramatically and went back to eating. Roman wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have seen a little smirk on Virgil’s face for a brief second. Lita sniffed around Roman’s feet for a moment, but seemed to accept him pretty quickly and went back to scouring the floor for food.

Roman took a bite of his salad, which was pretty good for salad, and was a little in awe of the situation. It all seemed so simple but idyllic. Things couldn’t be this easy. That’s not how the world worked. But nobody was mad at him. Patton and Thomas weren’t even mad at Virgil, even though he was being what his last foster family would call charitably call ‘difficult’. Maybe they still did awful things Roman just couldn’t find. Maybe Thomas got belligerently drunk, or Patton would constantly invade his privacy. He couldn’t know for sure since he couldn’t just ask his new foster brother if they did anything Roman needed to watch out for. Patton must have noticed Roman worrying since he smiled and tilted his head.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Patton asked cheerily.

“Nothing. This pizza tastes even better than it smells, Thomas,” Roman said, trying to change the subject.

“Thank you! I’ve been making them for years,” Thomas said proudly.

“You can really taste the love,” Patton said sweetly. Virgil rolled his eyes, but Thomas smiled at Patton. Roman wasn’t sure about ‘tasting love’ or whatever, but the pizza was pretty great. He had two pieces, and with everyone else at the table eating two, they killed the pizza and salad pretty quickly.

“Thanks for dinner,” Roman said with a small smile.

“You’re welcome!” Thomas said sweetly. Roman went to the sink to rinse his dishes. Virgil got up and left his plate next to the sink, so Roman went ahead and washed his, too.

“You guys don’t mind if I go lie down, do you?” Roman asked, pointing toward the stairs. Lita sniffed greedily around his feet while he finished rinsing the plates.

“It’s alright if you want to call it a night early, kiddo, but if you want to watch TV or play a game, we can set that up, too,” Patton offered.

“Sorry, not today,” Roman muttered. Playing a game sounded fun, but Roman was feeling uncomfortable. Adults rarely paid this much attention to him without him doing something wrong. Going to bed seemed much safer.

“It’s all right. I’ll be working, but you’re welcome to ask Pat if you change your mind,” Thomas said. Patton picked up his and Thomas’s plates and took them to the sink as Roman walked out of the kitchen.

Roman laid in his bed and flicked the sequins on his throw pillow in his one hand and stared at his new phone in the other. He had skimmed the bookshelf in here, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch those. He didn’t really feel like reading, anyway. He also didn’t feel like drawing.

On the other hand, he could link up his social to the phone and let his old friends know he was alive. He’d get to use all those filters his friends were using now that he wasn’t on a computer. Thomas and Patton swore to him it was okay. They already handed it to him, they already paid for it. There wasn’t anything he could do to change things. He could try to make the best of it, like his caseworker was always telling him, or he could not use it. And it seemed more fun to use it if he was honest with himself. He’d always wanted one of his own.

Roman spent a while catching up on his social, then played a bunch of free app store games before ending up on YouTube and watching videos. He had gotten to use other people’s smartphones before, but he’d never had completely free rein before. It was really freaking cool. Roman had even given in and opened up the headphones on his desk to watch the videos and listen to music, since making too much noise in his room made him kind of nervous, but so did the silence. Roman wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a knock came at the door.

“It’s 10 o’clock kiddo, it’s time to get ready for bed. We’d like you to be asleep by 11 PM,” Patton chimed through the door.

“Okay,” Roman called and got out of bed to pull some pajamas out.

“The red bag in the bathroom on the shelf next to the sink will have a new toothbrush and things for you,” Patton added and tapped on the door twice. Roman came out into the hall and watched Patton head to his room. Roman waved, and Patton smiled.

“Good night,” Roman said with a half-smile.

“G’night, champ,” Patton said. Roman went into the bathroom. The red bag had a new, well, everything. Maybe they didn’t know what Roman might be bringing. It was a fair bet he’d need a new toothbrush, though. The shower soap in there smelled amazing, and Roman wondered if it be okay to shower tonight. He wasn’t sure about Virgil’s shower schedule.

‘Is it okay if I take a shower now?’ Roman texted Virgil. Thomas said Virgil didn’t like people in his space, and just crossing the hall to ask seemed like pushing it. Virgil sent back a thumbs up. Roman turned up the shower to lots of heat and stripped down so he could use the new soap and shampoo that smelled so good, like sweet and spicy cookies.

Roman relished the hot shower. It helped him relax and wash off the bad feelings of the day and help him not feel so out of place. He knew he couldn’t take too long since Patton had already told him to go to bed, but he wished he could stay under longer. Roman dried off with a big fluffy towel from under the sink and hung it to try on the rack. He dried off his things to put back in the kit after getting dressed.

Virgil must have been listening because he came out of his room as soon as Roman stepped out of the bathroom. Virgil gave him an odd once-over and headed into the bathroom. Roman wasn’t sure if Virgil had a problem with him or his old pajamas, but he had a problem with something. Roman headed back to his room and turned off the lights. The darkness was a little unnerving in the empty room, so he turned on the LED star strip over the bed. The soft glow was probably a little bright to sleep by, but the room was unfamiliar and it was a little unsettling in the dark. He felt like if he couldn’t see things moving, he couldn’t feel safe, and there was no way he could sleep like that.

Even with the lights on, the strange room had unnerved him. It was unsettlingly silent, too. Nobody was watching TV or he couldn’t hear the neighbors or people talking in another room. No other kids rustling or snoring. His brother wasn’t there to quietly make up stories with. Even the bed being big felt weird when he sat down on it. Roman searched for a sleeping playlist he could put on his phone to play quietly. He couldn’t find one without ads, so he just hoped he wouldn’t get any ads yelling about great tire deals or something that would wake him up. Though those would be familiar, at least.

Roman crawled under the sheets and laid back with most of his body against the wall. The sheets were nice, and everything smelled good. He balled up and tried to focus on relaxing music instead of letting his thoughts run wild. Roman was never particularly good at falling asleep. He always had a lot of things on his mind that he couldn’t tell to stop running. But the warmth of soft sheets and his exhaustion eventually caused him to drift. Until he got a loud ad about shoes. Another knock at the door. Great. Now he was in trouble because of stupid shoe ads.

“Roman? Patton said lights out a while ago,” Thomas said through the door.

“I know,” Roman groaned. Thomas opened the door and looked in.

“What was that noise?” Thomas asked.

“Ad on the playlist,” Roman grumbled, squinting at Roman in the lights.

“Oh, Patton’s got a background noise app you can use. Can I see your phone?” Thomas asked as he stepped into the room. Roman pointed to it on the nightstand. Thomas walked over and picked up the phone and started tapping around.

“Here you go. You can pick what you like if you come over here,” Thomas said, putting the phone back on the nightstand. “Isn’t it kind of bright in here for sleeping?” Roman shrugged under the blankets.

“I can turn it off if it’s bothering you,” Roman said, sounding a little dejected. He really didn’t want to lie in the dark in a strange house.

“I’m more worried about it bothering you. There’s a night light in our bathroom I can put in here if you need a light,” Thomas offered.

“I don’t need a dumb night light,” Roman grumbled.

“I don’t think that light strip is good for your sleep. How about I put it in here for tonight and you can turn if off if you don’t want it?” Thomas suggested. Roman just grunted in response, staying buried under his blankets. Thomas left the room for a moment and came back with a small night light and plugged it in at an outlet over near the closet. He came over and flipped the switch on the LED stars. It was admittedly much nicer in here. He could still make out everything just fine. Roman exhaled in relief. His eyes were kind of hurting.

“Thanks,” Roman mumbled, feeling like a giant baby for liking the night light. The lights on in his shared rooms were always for the younger kids, or the glow of a light from the hall. He’d gotten dependent on it somehow, and he didn’t like feeling so weak.

“Any time. Is there a reason you’re pressed against the wall?” Thomas asked, looking curiously at Roman.

“Not a good one,” Roman admitted, feeling embarrassed.

“How about I judge that?” Thomas said firmly and motioned with his hand for Roman to speak.

“It’s just… empty in here,” Roman explained weakly. It was a bad reason. He should be excited about having a room to himself.

“Is it too open?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t know,” Roman grumbled. He wasn’t sure, but the last thing he wanted was for them to spend any more money on him by putting more stuff in there. It felt off in here, but he mostly just missed his brother. He still couldn’t believe he was in Juvie. He hated having to share a bed with Remus when he was a kid, since Remus was a kicker, but he’d give anything to have him here now.

“Are you okay? You look like something just upset you,” Thomas said, shifting his weight as he watched carefully. It was weird having somebody pay that much attention to him.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Roman added after a pause. Thomas raised an eyebrow. But he either bought it or was willing to drop it.

“There’re no ads on that app to bother you. You can probably turn it up to 40% or so with nobody hearing it,” Thomas said and turned to the door. “Did you always share a bedroom?” Thomas added, pausing in the doorway.

“Since I was born,” Roman said, the melancholy clear in his voice. Thomas nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Roman exhaled and crawled across the bed to set some noise. There were lots of options, but rain and the piano together seemed like a pleasant choice for tonight. Roman crawled back against the wall and laid on his side, holding his pillow, and tried to work on falling back asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Warnings:  
> Food, Dog, Money Issues, Sleep Issues, Negative Self-Talk


	4. local insomniac is baffled by animal care facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman tries to settle in.

Roman growled at the knock that came at his door the next morning. He hadn’t slept well most of the night, and for god’s sake, he just wanted to sleep. He was so fucking tired. He felt like he only just got to sleep, damnit. Morning people should be shot with tranquilizer darts. It was frankly terrifying, and Roman was convinced they were another species from himself entirely.

“Come on, Roman, get up, we’ve already let you doze an hour. It’s not healthy to sleep in too much,” Thomas called through the door. Roman didn’t remember them coming earlier at all. He also barely remembered where he was, so that probably didn’t mean much. For a moment there, he thought someone broke in to the Finley’s to awaken him for some bizarre morning person ritual. Though that could still be happening.

“Neither is not _sleeping_ ,” Roman groaned back sourly, rolling over in bed.

“You’ll feel better after some breakfast, come downstairs. Patton’s making breakfast sandwiches,” Thomas suggested something that was completely surreal and unlikely through the door. Roman buried himself under the blankets and ignored him. “Fair warning that if you don’t get up soon, _Patton_ will come to wake you up,” Roman couldn’t care less. He nestled in the warmth of his blanket cocoon and tried to go back to sleep. Roman drifted back successfully after a few minutes.

“Rise and shine, sunshine, there’s a whole day ahead!” Roman heard Patton call right over his head and the curtains being yanked open. Oh, now he wanted to leave the blankets even less. There was assuredly awful morning sun out there. Roman was not prepared for sunlight or sunny dispositions.

“Did you know that otters can only stay underwater for 4 minutes? They actually spend the majority of their time on land, even though people think of them as strictly sea creatures,” Patton informed him cheerfully. Roman was baffled. What was happening? He nearly popped his head out to shoot a very bewildered look at Patton until he remembered the sun was out there.

“Cat anti-depressants also work as appetite enhancers. Sometimes when pet food companies switch their formula, cats won’t eat it, so we have to give medicine so that they’re so hungry they can’t stand not eating! Honestly, it’s _tragic_. I wish pet food companies wouldn’t do that! You wouldn’t believe how often I see cases of it! Oh, some pet food companies are the worst. Bits of plastic and glass in the food! High sugar content! It’s a nightmare! Not that unbalanced people-food diets aren’t also dangerous,” Patton whined emphatically, and it sounded like he might be pacing the room.

“What exactly is happening here?” Roman asked, his voice creaking from tiredness, pining the blankets carefully around himself.

“Yanno, I’ve seen people with pristine white teeth come it with dogs whose teeth were rotting. You’d think they’d understand the importance of proper dental hygiene, but apparently, that doesn’t extend to pets,” Patton bemoaned sourly.

“Am I being hazed?” Roman asked cautiously and rubbed his head under the blanket.

“I’m not hazing you, kiddo! I’m just wakin’ up your brain by talking about work,” Patton responded buoyantly. “Most new bird owners don’t know you have to clean their water bowls twice a day. The water gets bacterial build-up since they bathe in it and drink from it, so it’s extremely important,” He made it sound like sage wisdom, which once again made Roman think he was being hazed.

“Thank you for that tidbit,” Roman grumbled. He did feel bad for those poor birds with disgusting drinking water. He just wasn’t awake enough to deal with this.

“We’re waiting for you for breakfast, Roman, and I’m not leaving until I see a sunny smile and your happy feet on the floor!” Patton chirped.

“You don’t treat otters, do you?” Roman asked, dragging himself sluggishly out of the blankets into the blazing morning light. He regretted everything ever, immediately. Sleeping was better than eating. Couldn’t he just sleep? Where does he sign up to be in the matrix?

“Nope! I’m a domestic vet. I just think they’re adorable,” Patton said, beaming at Roman as he rubbed his eyes from the oppressive morning sun. He briefly wondered how much trouble he’d get in if he just got back under the blankets.

“Is a smile in the sun good enough? Because I don’t have the energy for the level of smile that _you’re_ projecting at me right now,” Roman groaned, shielding his eyes as he shifted to the edge of the bed.

“I suppose,” Patton mused, not sounding satisfied with that compromise, though. Roman flung his feet off the bed and gave Patton a half-hearted smile. “Oh, that’s not much of a smile!” Patton pouted while Roman yawned painfully.

“It’s all I’ve got right now,” Roman grumbled. He was still so fucking exhausted. Who wakes up this early on weekends?

“Well, okay. Whatcha want in your breakfast sandwich?” Patton asked.

“I’m not picky,” Roman said and slowly stood up and tried to stretch the last of the haze away.

“You’re gonna rip that shirt if you stretch much more, Roman,” Patton observed with a displeased hum. His pyjamas were kind of old, so he probably wasn’t wrong. Roman didn’t like it being pointed out, though.

“Then let me _change_ ,” Roman groaned, shooting an irate look at Patton.

“Alright, I’ll whip you up one of what I’m having. You’ve got five minutes, or I’ll be back up here to talk about proper reptile care,” Patton alerted him boastfully. Roman was kind of interested, in all honesty, but he’d rather just get dressed at this point.

He could see why Thomas warned him. It wasn’t _invasive_ , but it was a little abrasive. Patton stepped out with a slight wave, and Roman pulled out a pair of jeans and a dark red-v neck shirt and changed, then headed into the bathroom to wash his face and fix his hair. He came into the kitchen and was met with a smarmy grin from Thomas at the table. Patton was at the stove cooking while humming the Tigger theme, which Roman had no idea how to process. Was he still asleep?

“You knew _exactly_ what you were doing, _didn’t you_ ,” Roman narrowed his eyes at him.

“I _did_ warn you,” Thomas replied blithely and sipped some orange juice. Virgil was somehow sitting cross-legged on the dining chair, and there was no way that was comfortable.

“How do you not _fall off_ , dude?” Came out of Roman’s mouth before he could stop himself. Virgil gave a quick half-smirk and shrugged. He shot a swift glance to Thomas, making sure he didn’t mess up, but Thomas didn’t even look up from his plate. Roman sat down at the empty place setting and his feet were rubbed against by the dog.

“I thought Lita was shy around new people,” Roman commented. “See, I’m confused because she’s licking my feet,” Roman shivered when her tongue went between his toes and pulled his feet up, shuddering from the incredibly gross sensation.

“Oh, so she is! She must like you,” Patton said, checking under the table. When Patton leaned down, Lita ran over to him expectantly. “No, this is for Roman! I’ll make your egg next,” He told Lita admonishingly, but she just sat with her tail wagging happily.

“Is this why you sit with your feet up? Dog saliva?” Roman asked curiously, still kind of grossed out. Virgil just shrugged again.

“You can just wear slippers or socks,” Thomas suggested, bemused. If this was a normal thing, he wouldn’t have minded a warning. Roman shot Thomas a brief glare under his bangs.

“I’m tired, you’re lucky I remembered a shirt,” Roman groaned. Virgil surprisingly nodded in response. Possibly in solidarity? They hadn’t interacted yet and Virgil seemed to prefer being a loner, so Roman wasn’t anticipating any familiarity from him. Roman accidentally talked back either way, though. Thomas looked like he’d let it go for now. Roman winced slightly in concern. It would probably come worse later. It usually did.

“Yours is ready! Go ahead and eat it while it’s hot. I already ate, I’ve just got to make Lita’s egg. It just takes a moment, then I’ll join y’all,” Patton reported happily and placed a breakfast sandwich in front of Roman. It was bacon and egg with cheese on grilled sourdough toast. This was fancy as fuck. Did they mean to give him this? This wasn’t a mistake? This was adult food, with fancy people ingredients.

“Thank you,” Roman sniffed it and looked around again nervously. Nobody corrected him that it wasn’t his. He took a bite, enjoying the flavours. This was absolutely killer. Virgil finished his breakfast sandwich and stood up from the table. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice and promptly waterfalled a few giant gulps into his mouth.

“Virgil, we’ve talked about this. Use a glass,” Thomas told him off firmly. Virgil just pulled a face briefly with a sarcastic thumbs-up and put it back in the fridge. He left the kitchen right after with a lazy salute, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket and slouching off.

“If I get a glass, can I have some?” Roman asked, kind of amused at Virgil’s antics, but mostly was interested in orange juice.

“Of course, you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. But, well, Virgil just drank out of it,” Thomas grimaced, looking grossed out at the concept of drinking out of it.

“Like I’m scared of a little emo backwash,” Roman shrugged dismissively. Eating after other people in foster homes was just a fact of life. Roman had long since stopped caring. “Which cabinet has the cups?” Roman looked around the kitchen in confusion.

“Next to the sink, kiddo,” Patton piped up and scrapped a half-cooked egg into a dog dish near the table. Roman got up from the table and pulled out a glass. He poured a cup, and it emptied the container by only three-quarters of the cup. It made him kind of nervous, so he double-checked.

“Um, this is the last cup. Is it okay if I finish it?” Roman asked tentatively. Finishing a container of something was something he’d gotten in trouble for plenty of times before, even if he had permission to take some. It was one of those weird arbitrary lines he never understood.

“I’m definitely not drinking it,” Thomas shook his head with a little chuckle, looking a bit disgusted as he eyeballed the glass on the counter as if an octopus or something might come out of it.

“Yup, it’s encouraged at this point,” Patton answered and sat down next to Thomas at the table. Roman rejoined them with his glass of OJ after rinsing out the container for recycling.

“So what do you usually do on weekends, Roman?” Patton asked, holding his head in his hands and watching Roman resume eating his sandwich. Roman made a puzzled expression at Patton as he swallowed.

“Um, whatever I’m supposed to do,” Roman didn’t understand the question. He just does what he’s told to do.

“What are you _supposed_ to do?” Patton asked curiously, swaying a little, possibly kicking his feet under the table.

“Whatever you _tell me_ to do? Chores, homework, babysitting, get out of the way… that kind of thing,” Roman supplied, looking between the pair with furrowed eyebrows. “What are my chores, anyway? I cleaned the house on Saturdays at the Finley’s,” He offered. He wouldn’t mind keeping up his schedule. This house was admittedly much bigger than the Finley’s but it was also less cluttered.

“Oh, just making sure your things, and the things you interact with, are clean. We’ll ask you to do specific things sometimes, but we don’t have a chore schedule,” Thomas explained plainly. “Your bedroom is fully your responsibility, but we’ll split all the rest. It’s not fair to make just one person handle the same thing all the time. You did your own dishes without us even asking last night, so I think you can handle it. We have a maid service come once a month to deep-clean out all the dog fur,” That was a surprisingly laid back chore scheme. Roman didn’t mind that, though. Well, unless he gets in trouble for not doing something he didn’t know he was supposed to do. Roman kind of cleaned better with a schedule.

“I, uh, don’t have much to do this weekend, then,” Roman hummed, realizing the implications. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “Unless you have a babysitting job lined up for me I don’t know about,” Roman asked, weirdly hopeful about it. The money would be nice, but for some reason, the idea of a free weekend unnerved him and he’d rather work like he always did.

“Of course not, that’d be silly. You just got here, why would we find you a job before we talked to you about it?” Patton said disbelievingly, chuckling to himself. That didn’t sound unreasonable to Roman. “Well, would you like to walk Lita after breakfast and get to know her a bit?” Patton smiled and titled his head towards Lita, sitting near her dish and making a begging face at them.

“Okay,” Roman agreed, shrugging and taking another bite of his sandwich. Lita bounded over to the table and shook excitedly, her tail wagging fast enough it blurred.

“You excited for walkies, girl? Go outside?” Patton asked in a high-pitched voice. Lita basically was so thrilled she was buzzing, bouncing around the kitchen. Roman figured should probably finish his breakfast before she vibrated off this plane of reality altogether. He picked up the pace eating, eyeballing the dog who was maybe fighting shadow demons or something from the sheer amount of activity from this tiny dog. He tried his damnedest not to laugh and choke on his food.

Roman took his last few bites and chugged the rest of the orange juice and got up to rinse his dishes. He grabbed Virgil’s abandoned plate while he was getting up since he was already headed to the sink. He remembered the caseworker mentioned Virgil hadn’t been in the system long. He probably didn’t have it ingrained in him like Roman had to leave as little impression as possible in a foster home. It was annoying, but a good sign for Roman was so used to doing dishes for three to six people and rinsing a second dish barely registered with him, though. He’d save another kid from punishments any chance he got, even if it was a pain in the ass. Roman dried off his hands, and Patton handed Roman the leash with doggy bags tied onto it.

“We go up and around one block and back to the house. Lita knows the way,” Patton explained happily, with a loving expression at the incredibly stoked dog. Thomas pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and handed it to Roman with a smile. Roman squatted down to Lita with the leash in hand. Lita stopped shaking and slowly scooted forward to sniff Roman. Roman held out his hand carefully, and Lita sniffed it for a few moments, but didn’t bite and just backed up expectantly.

“Good girl, Lita!” Patton cooed. Lita started bouncing again, and Roman struggled to hook the leash onto her collar. Lita basically yanked him out of the kitchen to the front door once it was on.

“She’s surprisingly strong,” Roman commented as he was pulled away. Roman knew he wasn’t that strong, but it was a little ridiculous that a dog her size could yank him around.

“Jack Russells were bred for hunting,” Patton stated simply, smiling and waving as she tugged him off.

“Be safe and call us if you need us,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

“It’s just a _block_ , Thomas,” Roman called back, rolling his eyes.

“My statement stands!” Thomas shouted back. Roman laughed to himself. Thomas was kind of a worrywart. It was just a block with a dog. What? Was he going to get swept up by a drug cartel or something?

Lita shoved her face against the door and pulled him outside quickly. He was barely able to lock the door with her trying to staunchly pull him forwards. Despite her short legs, Roman had to jog to keep up with the hurried pace Lita took as she pivoted to the right out of the driveway.

“We can run if you want, girl,” Roman told Lita. She looked like she wanted to go faster. Lita must know the word ‘run’, since she yanked him ahead and Roman ran along with her. They didn’t slow down until they whirled the end of the street where Lita used the restroom on a stop sign. She trotted happily after that for half the block up. She went potty again and got distracted with sniffing a mailbox and barking at another dog until Roman convinced her to continue moving. Roman took a drink and Lita returned to high-speed galloping.

After another sprint as they pivoted the corner of the next block, Roman understood why Thomas handed him the water bottle. She liked to get going lightning fast. Roman enjoyed the running, though. Roman and Lita jogged at a moderate pace back to the house, Lita now panting joyfully. Roman unleashed her as soon as he closed and re-locked the front door, and Lita basically Tokyo-drifted to her water dish in the kitchen. That was sick. Thomas waved from the couch.

“Welcome back, Roman. That was fast,” Thomas smiled. Roman relished the A/C for a moment and finished the water bottle, then headed to the kitchen to rinse it for re-use.

“That dog could break mach five if she tried,” Roman commented blithely, wiping his forehead before washing his hands.

“Yeah, Patton taught her how to use the treadmill, and she really gets going on that thing. She can nearly handle the fastest setting,” Thomas said. Roman whistled, impressed with the tiny speed demon. “I’ve set you up on the game systems now if you want to play. I’ve got to get back to work soon, but you’re welcome to play something or watch TV. Virgil doesn’t come out of his room much, so you probably have the TV to yourself for the morning,” He told Roman with a small nod.

“Um, okay,” Roman muttered. Was he saying he wanted Roman to use the TV? He was down with that. They had a giant fancy TV and a surround system.

“The games are in the cabinet to the left of the TV. Please don’t pick anything that’s rated M or I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ve got an idea and want to write it down before I forget,” Thomas said, pointing to the cabinet near the TV and walking into his office. He left the door slightly open, possibly to check on Roman, but he could see Thomas already typing away on the computer. Roman wasn’t quite sure where Patton was, but he probably wouldn’t admit he’d played a ton of games rated M at friend’s houses or on older foster sibling’s game consoles. He particularly liked _Assassin’s Creed_.

Roman perused the games and found an adventure game, one only rated T and not M, that looked cool and put that in the system to play. Roman sat on the floor in front of the TV and got sucked into the adventure pretty quickly. Lita had joined him in the living room but kept her space. Probably because Roman was bouncing around while he fought off thieves and picked fights with the lich. It annoyed other people, too, so Roman couldn’t blame Lita for judging him. But nobody was in here with him, so he didn’t try to hide it.

This game was extremely enthralling. He loved all the side quests and got caught up chasing the near-endless side quests and completely ignored the main storyline. Roman liked the story and all, it was involved and the character arc was appealing. But it was not _quite_ as compelling as an NPC being proud of him massacring twenty demon bears to protect the village after only a few minutes of work that resulted in a special reward. Sure, sure, save the king, beat the demon god, _whatever_. There were flowers to pick and a den of skeletons rumoured to have a fancy sword.

“Bud, you’ve been playing for a few hours, how about you take a break?” Patton suggested from behind him. Roman jumped. He didn’t realize Patton had entered the living room at all. Holy shit, how long had he been in here? Roman paused the game and turned to look at Patton.

“When did you get here?” Roman asked, feeling discombobulated. He blinked painfully a few times, squinting his eyes shut to try to regain moisture.

“When you saved that caravan from the wild boars,” Patton said. Roman thought back. Oh, that was a while ago. Maybe. He wasn’t too sure. It was a few quests ago, at least. He should get up, he knew he should. He had trouble pulling himself from the game, though. He wanted to know what would happen next in this series of side quests. He was hunting down some murderer and he couldn’t seem to pull his thoughts from it.

“Can I come back to it?” Roman looked to Patton hopefully, watching him carefully for a bad response.

“I think you should at least eat lunch first,” Patton responded with a little smile. That wasn’t a negative reply, but it wasn’t a yes or no answer, so Roman was just left perplexed.

“We just ate breakfast,” Roman objected incredulously.

“It’s past noon, Roman,” Patton said, sounding a little concerned. It was? Roman’s eyes looked around the walls for a clock. There was one near the entryway. Holy crap, it _was_. Roman felt his face grow a little hot. He did it again. “Take a break, yeah?” Patton requested instead of suggested this time.

Roman really didn’t want to, but he nodded and went to the save menu and shut off the game, and the TV. Roman stood up off the floor and stretched. Lita hopped off of Patton’s lap and bounced around his feet as he got some blood back into his legs. He touched his toes and pet her head when she passed between his legs.

“I’ve never seen a shy dog warm up to someone as fast as she warmed up to you,” Patton observed, watching Roman pet Lita as she passed by while he stretched in the living room. He was stiff from sitting still all morning. Dogs made stretching and exercise better, hands down.

“Animals love me for some reason. Scared to death of my brother, though,” Roman said as he pulled back up and stretched his neck out. Roman walked over into the kitchen, Lita at his heels. He got a glass to down some water. He was astoundingly thirsty. Probably because he had nothing to drink for hours. Patton followed Roman into the kitchen and leaned against the entrance.

“Animals are very sensitive to moods and energy,” Patton provided in explanation. Though it didn’t really reveal much for Roman. His brother was sweet with animals, too.

“So animals _vibe_ with me?” Roman asked with a little chuckle.

“That’s one way to put it,” Patton sounded a little amused, too. Roman chugged two glasses of water and glanced around the kitchen. He was starving now that he had drunk something and woke up his stomach.

“So… is there something specific I have to eat?” Roman asked nervously.

“Whatever looks good, bud. I can’t get everybody to eat lunch at the same time on weekends, so we just forage. I can whip you up something if you like,” Patton offered, joining him in the kitchen.

“I, no, I can cook, I just wasn’t sure if there was something I wasn’t supposed to touch,” Roman supplied, pulling at his fingers. “Or if there was kid food and adult food here,” He added. The Finley family had that rule, and he’d gotten very used to it.

“No, we have nothing like that. Virgil came in for a sandwich a while ago. Thomas and I had some leftovers from Thursday,” Patton replied evenly. Roman didn’t notice a single one pass him. Geez. He felt like an idiot. He thought the dog would jump dimensions earlier, but it was Roman’s stupid brain that did.

“A sandwich sounds great,” Roman mumbled and went to the fridge for ingredients. It was hard to fuck up a sandwich, at least. And with how dumb he felt, he needed the safety net. He rubbed his face before opening the fridge door. Today was just a weird fucking day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 Warnings:  
> Food, Discussed Bad Animal Care, Forced Out of Bed, Dogs, Implied Past Mild Child Labour, Dark Humour, Mentioned Fantasy Violence in Games, Negative Self-Talk, Implied Past Child Abuse


	5. local foster father connects some dots he wishes he didn't have to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman sees how things work here.

Roman made a deli turkey and cheese sandwich with a side of apple for his lunch. Lita weaved around his legs and nearly Roman tripped twice while making trips from the fridge. Roman chuckled as he put the ingredients back, successfully not tripped. He was lucky he had outstanding balance, or there would probably be lunch meat on the floor. Well, in Lita’s stomach, anyway.

“Lita, come here girl,” Patton commanded Lita to get her away from Roman while he ate. Patton patted his chest with both hands, and Lita hopped up into his arms. “Sorry about her, she’s a voracious little raptor, no matter the amount of training,” Patton apologized, cooing at Lita and scratching behind her ears at the same time.

“No, I like her. My dog when I was a kid was always determined to get food, too. He tripped us on multiple occasions,” Roman said with a bittersweet smile, picking at his apple slices.

“Oh, what kind of dog did you have?” Patton asked and tilted his head. Lita did, too, which was both amazing and baffling. How many tricks did he teach her? Did she just mirror him?

“I have no idea. He was Lita’s size with curly grey fur. His name was Arthur,” Roman supplied. “He was supposed to teach us responsibility or something, I don’t know. We didn’t get to have him for very long,” Roman shrugged.

“Oh, was he a senior dog?” Patton asked warmly.

“No, they took him to the animal shelter when Remus and I were taken away. Nobody to care for him and all,” Roman replied sourly. He missed Arthur sometimes, and he’d rather not remember that day. He had a bite of the sandwich to wash the bitter taste of the memories out of his mouth. It didn’t taste right. Brains are weird.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Patton said compassionately.

“He probably wasn’t safe with us anyway,” Roman shrugged mildly. Patton looked concerned, despite the fact there wasn’t anything to worry about. “It’s _fine_ , I swear. He was cute and friendly, I’m sure he went to some home with other kids to dote on him,” Roman tried to placate the growing concern on Patton’s face. It was unnerving.

“I was consoling your _loss_ , not Arthur’s fate. I’m sure he went to a suitable home, too,” Patton shook his head slowly, still sporting a sad expression.

“Oh,” Roman breathed and ate his sandwich. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. There was a pause while he chewed, and Patton seemed to consider something.

“They don’t give foster parents the full story when they get selected to foster someone. Is there something we should know?” Patton asked delicately, tapping his fingertips together. Roman chewed slowly. He wasn’t sure how to answer that and but he _was_ sure he didn’t want to talk about his past. Roman had a little difficulty swallowing his food.

“Um, they don’t tell kids anything either, I don’t know what _you_ even know,” Roman admitted awkwardly.

“We know your mother is no longer with us and your father is in prison and lost rights to you. We also know you’ve been through plenty of other families in the past five years,” Patton caught him up in a gentle tone, but Roman wasn’t particularly reassured.

“That’s _everything,_ isn’t it?” Roman shrugged dismissively and took another bite.

“There’re a lot of gaps, there, bud. We don’t even know where your brother is. They only mentioned you _had_ once in passing,” Patton looked troubled again, his face scrunching up.

“The caseworker thinks he’s in juvie, but there’s no way Remus did what his foster parents said he did,” Roman tried to quell back his anger and put down his sandwich. He suddenly lost his appetite. “I don’t know where he is, _either_ ,” He grumbled, gripping the counter.

“We’ll try to find out for you, kiddo,” Patton offered softly. Roman was too bitter to feel appreciative. “But what about the rest?” Thinking about Remus in juvie made him so angry. Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at the wall, trying to control himself.

“What, my alcoholic father or my dead mother? She died the same day we were taken away. You can probably connect the dots yourself,” Roman growled, clenching his fists. Roman glanced at Patton’s face, which went slowly from concern to shock to sorrow. Roman looked back down to the counter again and swallowed heavily, his throat tight. He really wished he had something to punch right now, and he hated himself for it.

“Do you want a hug, kiddo?” Patton suggested, holding out an arm for him. Roman stepped back slightly, trying to keep his distance.

“Not particularly,” Roman said through gritted teeth. Roman knew Patton didn’t deserve this, but he couldn’t really stop the anger in his tone. “Where can I find some food boxes?” Roman inquired, looking back to the counter.

“You _barely_ ate. You can’t finish it?” Patton asked with concern, reaching into a lower cabinet and pulling out a plastic container.

“I’ll finish it later,” Roman grunted. He took the box and packed it all up and rinsed his dishes dutifully. “I’m going to my room… if that’s okay,” Roman tried to stay even timbered, but he barely contained the acidic tone that came out. He needed to get out of here before he did something he regretted. He stood there stiffly and dug his nails into his palm until Patton finally answered.

“Yeah… yeah that’s okay kiddo, are you sure? We can talk about it,” Patton said, sounding pretty upset. Roman winced, clenching his jaw hard. He wished he could stop being an asshole. He wanted to punch something too much to be near other people.

“My _room_ is better than leaving the house,” Roman offered in solace, but also perhaps a bit of a threat. He needed his space, and he needed it now. Patton looked confused for a moment but nodded. Patton grabbed a filled water bottle out of the fridge and handed it to Roman quickly.

“Maybe it’ll help ya _cool down_ ,” Patton said with a wink. Roman grumbled and snatched the bottle from him, leaving to head upstairs.

Roman flopped face down on the floor of his bedroom and groaned into the carpet, aggressively ruffling his hair. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why did they have to throw his brother in JDC? Why’d they separate them in the first place? Why’d his dad have to finish a handle that awful fucking night? Why’d his dad have to drink in the first place? The world had no justice, and one fucking person’s stupid choice could destroy another’s life on a moment’s notice. And here Roman was fucking up his chances with what seemed like friendly people who didn’t punish him for stupid shit all because he couldn’t keep it together like his goddamn father.

He gripped his hair and tried not to scream. He’d be gone next week for sure. If it wasn’t that he was _annoying_ or a _fuck-up_ , it was his _anger issues_. The very same anger issues he thought he _finally_ had a better handle on until he found out about his brother being in juvie. Roman might not keep from lashing out next time. And then he’ll _really_ be in trouble. If not from his foster family, then from himself. At least if he got thrown in juvie he might end up in a unit near Remus.

Roman dragged himself up into bed and buried himself under the blankets. He rammed his face in the pillow to stifle a hateful sob that finally broke loose. Roman choked a little when he tried to take a deep breath and cried as quietly as he could manage under his blankets. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so pissed he ended up crying and it was a record that was bitter to break.

The water Patton handed Roman earlier was particularly appreciated after he didn’t have any tears left in him to cry. Roman didn’t leave the bed and reached around blindly on the floor for where he left it. He downed half the bottled and sniffled, then curled back up under the blankets.

He glanced at the door. Roman really hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for taking a nap. He was completely exhausted. Being that angry always did that to him He barely slept last night, and now all this emotional bullshit had run him ragged. Roman got up to yank the curtains closed and went to the restroom to wash his face. He thankfully didn’t pass anybody and skulked back into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He crawled into bed lethargically. Roman turned on the noisemaker app Thomas installed last night to some crickets and windy trees. Roman rolled up against the wall and let out a shuddering sigh as he closed his eyes and let his exhaustion take him.

— ✪ —

It was darker in his room when he woke up. Roman opened his eyes to the golden light of the sun starting to set, washing his red sheets in a beautiful glow. It was lovely to experience something pleasant as he woke for once. Roman reached around for wherever he left the water bottle and finished it off. He rubbed the slight blurriness from his eyes and sat up on the bed, still wrapped around the sheets.

Roman reached for his phone to stop the crickets and check his social media. His school friends from the last district seemed happy he got a phone. They told him about the new drama at school, which all seemed very far away right now. Roman knew how this worked. Friends from the last school never stuck around when you moved to a new one. But he had them for a few months, still. It was nice to pretend somebody liked him.

He sighed and went to the app store again. He enjoyed trying new apps. There was always something new to distract him with a smartphone. He could barely remember how he passed his downtime without falling down wiki holes and colourful apps. Roman was playing some maze app while spacing out when there was a knock at the door.

“Roman, you still up to do something today? No pressure,” Thomas called through the door. In Roman’s experience, ‘no pressure’ didn’t _mean_ ‘no pressure’. And, well, if he had any chance of redeeming himself any, it’d be now after he’d slept and hopefully could keep it together.

“Sure,” Roman called back, though it was a little more nervous than he intended.

“Great, meet us downstairs,” Thomas said and tapped the door once. Roman heard him go next door and get Virgil. Roman crawled out of bed and stretched, then headed to the bathroom to fix his hair and make sure his face wasn’t still puffy.

Roman actually looked okay in the mirror over the sink. Well, he looked better than this morning, anyway. Roman huffed and blew up a stray bang that refused to stay up. He wet his brush and tried to fix his violent, fizzled bed head. There was a knock at the bathroom door which startled Roman and he accidentally stabbed himself with his comb.

“Fuck,” he groaned and checked for damage. “One sec,” He called. Roman finished his hair and opened the door to Virgil, who backed up from the sudden motion but was snickering silently. “What?” He asked sourly.

Virgil signed something Roman didn’t fully follow. But he knew enough signs to make out the message, which he thought was about Virgil’s amusement with Roman’s cussing. It was a good thing Roman’s cursing didn’t bother Virgil, because Roman had never been able to break the habit.

“It’s an extremely useful word, for many situations,” Roman explained, sort of bemused that this was the first thing Virgil said to him.

Virgil nodded and pointed to Thomas and Patton’s bedroom, then shrugged. Virgil was probably trying to say they don’t agree, but Virgil did. It was odd he didn’t try to sign again, but maybe he could tell Roman was confused. Roman chuckled and cleared out of Virgil’s way. Virgil gave him a wide berth as he went into the bathroom.

So Virgil wasn’t just being obstinate. Well, he was sometimes purposefully a bastard, like he was the orange juice and all. He must have had selective mutism or something like that from the accident. One of the kids Roman used to babysit had that when he got upset. Somebody probably should have told Roman that so he wouldn’t have made such an asshole assumption. They presumably thought he wouldn’t understand. Or maybe Virgil wasn’t diagnosed, and Thomas and Patton were just being patient. The caseworker made it sound like Virgil _refused_ to talk, not that he couldn’t, so that wasn’t too far-fetched. It was an extremely awkward question to ask for clarification on, though, and he wasn’t sure he had the balls right now.

Roman went downstairs to see a whiteboard with taped lines to form the tournament bracket and Patton filling out the sections with a big, loopy script. Patton looked like he was deliberating something and Thomas was chuckling with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t think that’s realistic,” Thomas shrugged, shifting his weight to one leg.

“What if we get them some bikes? Then we could go there,” Patton replied hopefully, with a pleading expression.

“I’m not opposed, but I think that’s even kind of far to bike out to,” Thomas said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “How about s’mores in the firepit out back?” Thomas suggested, holding up a finger.

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed and added ‘s’mores’ to the board in his fancy lettering. “You think there’re any sparklers left if we’re already playing with fire?”

“Do you have to word it like _that_? I’ll check the garage,” Thomas said. He noticed Roman standing there, finally. “Oh, hey Roman, I didn’t realize you came in already. We’re filling out the brackets. Tell pop if there’s something you want to do, I’ll be right back,” Thomas left to the kitchen, presumably to check the garage.

“Um,” Roman stalled. He could think of lots of things, but his brain wouldn’t seem to settle on one thing, so he kept losing his ideas as soon as he got them. “I don’t have any,” Roman said, giving up and heading to the kitchen for some more water.

Virgil was there, sitting balled up on the couch arm, when Roman came back into the living room. He looked nervous, and his eyes darted around the room. Boy, isn’t that a mood. Roman sat in front of him on the floor and waved. Virgil’s eyes landed on him, and he made a conflicted expression.

‘You okay?’ Roman signed at Virgil. Roman wished he was in the one school he’d been to that offered ASL for more time. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to understand a longer answer, even if he had an okay basis to work from. Virgil just stared at him for a moment, a little baffled, then shook his head.

‘You can leave, I’ll tell Pat for you,’ Roman signed, probably very badly. Virgil just shook his head again. Virgil did a sign Roman couldn’t remember. Roman looked at him in confusion and shrugged.

‘Lonely,’ Virgil fingerspelled in clarification.

‘Mood,’ Roman signed back. Virgil smirked slightly and took a deep breath. ‘You want water?’ Roman asked. Virgil nodded, and Roman got up to get Virgil a glass. Roman ran into Thomas in the kitchen, who gave him a pat on the shoulder as he passed into the living room. Roman nearly jumped out of his skin from the sudden contact he didn’t expect, and he had to catch his breath against the counter for a moment before going back out. Patton was still staring extremely intently at the board.

“We do still have sparklers. Quite a lot of them, actually. How many did you buy last July?” Thomas asked Patton as Roman returned with a glass of water for Virgil. He took it and sipped at it slowly. Roman sat back down on the floor in front of him.

“Like, fifty,” Patton replied sheepishly, though he had a pleased grin.

“Pat, fireworks get _unstable_ with age,” Thomas groaned in objection to his husband’s admittedly rad slash terrible purchase.

“Good thing they’re so pretty!” Patton waved his hand with a tiny smile.

“Well, if we pick s’mores we’re playing with a lot of them,” Thomas sounded a little defeated.

“That sounds like a win-win situation to me!” Patton said brightly. “The board is filled out!” Patton added triumphantly after looking over it one more time.

“Alright, Roman, all you have to do is hold up either one or two fingers or do nothing if you can’t pick. One finger is the choice on the higher bracket and two fingers is the lower option,” Thomas explained, and Patton put the marker down and moved out of Thomas’s way.

“Can I hold up three for both?” Roman asked curiously.

“Um, I suppose, if both activities are short,” Thomas said, sounding a little surprised. Patton smiled and sat down on the floor next to Roman instead of sitting on the couch. “Alright, custard at the park versus charades,” Thomas started announcing the bracket options. He used a TV show announcer’s voice, which secretly liked. Patton and Thomas played rock paper scissors for a tiebreaker when the votes broke even. Charades won, much to Virgil’s chagrin. He didn’t seem to like either choice, but he grimaced at the final verdict harder than the resting glower.

“Group play games versus card games?” Thomas listed next. Games moved forward. “Go out to eat versus cocoa at the cat café after dinner?” Cat café won, which Roman was really interested in. He was more of a dog person, but he still loved cats. “Follow a painting tutorial or make cookies and watch cartoons?” Painting won, and Patton pouted about that.

“Rock paper scissors tournament with a prize, or making s’mores out back,” Thomas posed the next bracket for voting. S’mores won, and Virgil looked nervous about that.

“Charades versus games?” Thomas asked. Roman was about to pick charades, but Virgil glared at him and Roman switched to games. He liked both options. He just thought charades sounded more fun. But he didn’t want to piss off Virgil and get in trouble. Plus Virgil was looking more worried already and Roman would eat his shoe if he couldn’t help his foster siblings out of situations they didn’t want to be in, even if Virgil didn’t like him.

“Cat café versus painting?” Thomas listed the next bracket. Roman couldn’t pick this one. The activities seemed too lengthy to vote for both. He was conflicted between the two. Roman always liked painting in school, and a cat café sounded awesome. Virgil also abstained. “Alright, we’ll switch what they’re up against. Cat café versus s’mores?” Cat café won, though Roman hoped that s’mores thing would be on the table another time. The little kid in him wanted to play with those sparklers. But he’d get chocolate _and_ cats with the café choice, which was undoubtedly superior.

“Painting versus playing games?” Thomas listed off the next bracket choice. Roman was stalled again by indecision. He could space out while painting and get in trouble for making a mess, though, so he decided against it. Games won since Virgil and Thomas also voted for it.

“Alright, final bracket. Games or cat café?” Thomas pitted them against each other dramatically. Shit. Cats and hot cocoa or video games. What a freaking dilemma. Roman wasn’t the only one taking a moment to decide. When he looked around, only Thomas had chosen games. Patton and Virgil were thinking still. “Okay… if we go to the cat café I’ll have to make dinner first, but if we play video games, I’ll be busy and we can just order delivery. So also consider how hungry you are,” Roman had a half sandwich for lunch and was starving, so faster food was the obvious choice for him. He held up a finger for games. Virgil also voted for games after a pause, and games had won. Patton was still rubbing his chin in thought and didn’t notice something had already won.

“Great, we’ll play a _video_ game or _board_ game. Any suggestions?” Thomas requested brightly as he struck a victory post.

“I saw the new _Mario Party_ while I was looking earlier, it’s kind of _both_ ,” Roman offered carefully, slightly raising his hand out of habit.

“Oh, I love that idea! Is that okay with you, Virgil?” Patton asked hopefully. Virgil nodded shyly, leaning away from Patton’s beaming smile.

“Great, we don’t have to make another bracket,” Thomas laughed in relief. “Is Chinese good with everyone?” Roman shrugged, and nobody seemed opposed. “Cool, I’ll send you two the link to the Chinese menu, just text me your order number. Pat, will you help me wheel this back? I already know you want sweet and sour chicken with a side of lo mein,” Thomas begged, sounding a little exasperated.

“It’s delicious!” Patton pouted and clambered off the floor to help Thomas, who was on his phone. Patton started cleaning off the board when Roman’s phone dinged. He and Virgil both pulled out their phones. Roman opened the link to the menu and checked his options. Lita trotted up to him excitedly, pushing his arm with his nose. Roman reached over and pet the dog absentmindedly while he read, eventually settling on moo shu pork, mostly because he liked the name. Lita whined into his hand.

“What? I didn’t do anything, I swear,” Roman shot, frightened they’d assumed he’d hurt her. He looked up to Patton with fear and holding both of his hands up in the air and away from Lita. Patton glanced to the clock on the wall and chuckled.

“She normally goes for a walk around this time. If I had to guess, you let her go faster than me or Thomas,” Patton supplied, and Roman was washed with relief immediately. “Would you be willing to take her out for a r-u-n while we set up?” Patton smiled to Roman as he dropped his arms and took a breath.

“I don’t know Pat, the sun’s almost set,” Thomas objected worriedly, peering out the window.

“Roman was back quick this morning, but I’ll give him my taser if you like,” Patton offered, getting up off the floor.

“Okay. You’ll run at the _first sign_ of trouble, okay Roman?” Thomas demanded seriously. Lita perked up at the word ‘run’ and stared pleadingly up to Roman.

“I’ll be running _either way_ ,” Roman laughed darkly. Lita looked expectantly at Roman and pawing at his leg, resuming her whining.

“I _mean_ it,” Thomas insisted firmly. Roman bristled and gripped the hem of his shirt.

“Alright, yeah, okay,” Roman mumbled. He couldn’t always stop himself from saying dumb stuff. But the caseworker said this was a nice neighbourhood, and he’d survived on the streets without a dog or a taser in much more dangerous areas, so Roman wasn’t exactly worried. Patton smiled to Roman and went upstairs. “You want to go for a run, Lita?” Roman asked, and Lita started bounding around the living room and jumping up on Roman.

“Lita, sit,” Thomas commanded and Lita complied, but she wagged so hard her butt moved along the floor. Roman pet her head and got up to go get Lita’s leash, with Lita right at his heels.

Virgil looked a little nervous and watched Roman stand warily. Roman still wasn’t sure what his whole deal is. He seemed okay with Roman one minute and then monitored Roman like he was evil the next. Roman probably shouldn’t judge. He felt the same way about Thomas and Patton. Roman grabbed the leash from the wall and a water bottle from the fridge. Roman didn’t want to get in trouble for just up and asking, though, as much as he wanted to. Asking somebody what their deal was never ended pleasantly in his experience. He’d finally learned his lesson about that. Patton came back downstairs and handed Roman a black box with a switch on the side.

“Don’t arm it until you’re ready to use it. Just keep your thumb near the switch,” Patton said. “Just find any patch of skin and push the switch all the way up if somebody gets too close to you,” Roman rolled huffed in frustration. He knew how to use a taser.

“ _Got it_ , shock strangers for looking at me funny,” Roman joked with a smirk as he wiggled the taser between two fingers.

“Roman, _please_ ,” Patton frowned wearily.

“I get it. I _get_ it. It’s like you guys think I don’t know how to fight,” Roman rolled his eyes and squatted down to hook up the bounding Lita to the leash. Lita yanked him to the doorway, and Roman laughed darkly. “Bye nerds,” Roman called as he closed the door behind him and bolted out the door with Lita pulling him ahead into the darkening streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 Warnings:  
>  Food, Dogs, Death Mention, Implied Traumatic Event, Alcohol Mention, Alcoholism Mention, Anger Issues, JDC Mention, Emotional Breakdown, Mild Parental Bickering (not about kids), Weapons, Anxiety, Implied Past Child Endangerment, Negative Self-Talk


	6. do decent people exist? more at 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario Party and restlessness.

Lita had bolted for longer and faster on this evening’s walk, pushing Roman a little harder then he would like on a nearly empty stomach. Roman managed to snap a photo of Lita during a flower-sniffing break for his phone, though. The lighting was killer and the scene was almost magical, so he posted it to Instagram. Roman was ravenous when he finally got back in the front door, just before the last vestiges of the sun were lost to the horizon. No scary after dark monsters to spook Thomas. He was ridiculous. Lita made another sick drift across the living room into the kitchen for water. Roman leaned against the wall in the entryway and finished the bottle.

“She gave you a good workout, huh?” Patton asked from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, she ran faster this time. Keeping up with her took a bit of pushing myself,” Roman said and wiped his brow on his sleeve. He headed into the kitchen to refill the bottle, to chug more water. Roman left the taser on the counter in there, not sure what else to do with it.

“Well, I’m glad you got back quick! We’re all set up and have picked our characters, so just pick up a controller and we can start,” Thomas said. Roman shot a longing look at the fridge before heading back into the living room. They left the controller sitting on the arm of the couch for Roman to take, so he selected Rosalina quickly to start the game, solely on the fact that she reminded him of Elsa.

Picking up the game was pretty easy, just like the older Mario Parties he had played. Roman had even managed to take the lead from Thomas by grabbing the second star and having more coins. But Boo, played by Virgil, had stolen it from him in three turns.

‘You little shit,’ He signed to Virgil before he could think twice about it. After a moment he realized Patton or Thomas could also possibly know sign language, and he’d be in so much trouble. Roman froze and watched Patton and Thomas carefully, bracing himself.

‘Takes one to know one,’ Virgil signed back from the arm of the couch with a smirk. Roman rolled his eyes but still sat stiffly, unsure if he was royally screwed still. There wasn’t a reaction yet, anyway.

“Boys, you know sign language?” Patton asked cheerily, perhaps finally recognizing what was happening. Oh, thank god Patton didn’t see him cuss. Roman really didn’t want to see him mad. He would have nightmares for weeks if a guy with such a nice smile ever hit him, even if he deserved it.

“Um, kinda. I took it for a semester in middle school,” Roman explained a little awkwardly, not sure if he was in trouble still. He fiddled with the seam on his jeans and kept watching Patton and Thomas, not sure if he should bolt or just keep bracing himself.

‘They don’t know,’ Virgil signed and Roman breathed a sigh of relief, loosening up. ‘I’m coming for your coins, next,’ Virgil added with an evil smile, and Roman scowled at him. Damnit, he fought hard for those. Well, some of them. He’d probably lucked into half. Still, he'd earn them.

“Boys, I don’t know what you’re saying, but I’m not a fan of the _tone_ it’s taking,” Patton admonished them, warily looking between the two of them as if he was trying to parse it out.

“We’re just talking about the game,” Roman offered in explanation, trying to shrug it off. Thomas grunted with dissatisfaction at the answer. If Roman had an out from punishment, he would take it. They seemed to accept his answer since they didn’t object.

“Virgil, if you would have let us known before we would have started learning so we could talk to you,” Thomas said gently. Virgil just rolled his eyes and pointed to the game with both hands, clearly communicating he wanted to drop it.

“Seconded,” Roman said, also hoping to drop it and just play the game. He was having fun before all the gut-twisting fear. Thomas and Patton conceded with varying levels of grumpiness and Roman exhaled in relief. No punishment for now, and they got to keep playing. 5 turns later, Virgil fulfilled the prophecy of coin theft and Roman wanted to show him a sign that Pat and Thomas surely knew. He settled on a glower and signing at Virgil that he was a fuckface. Virgil had no such qualms about showing a sign that Thomas and Patton knew.

“Virgil! We don’t do that in this house,” Patton chastened Virgil, wobbling between firm and clearly shooketh while Virgil shook his middle finger at Roman. Roman was heavily torn between laughing at the ridiculousness and being terrified of getting in trouble.

‘Out of the house is fine,’ Virgil signed, and it pushed Roman over into the humor of the situation couldn’t stop the snickers that broke out. Roman tried to hide them behind his hand.

“ _Boys_ ,” Thomas groaned and rubbed his face. The doorbell rang, and Thomas got up with a small huff. The sudden motion had Roman flinch, and he shifted back, all the amusement drained from his body in a millisecond. Shit, Roman had probably gone too far. He always did. Roman sighed and tried to steel himself for what was to come. He knew it would come, eventually. It always did. 

“Clearly, you two are hangry. Thank goodness that’s the food! Apologize to each other and we’ll go eat dinner,” Patton said, folding his hands in his lap. Virgil looked incredulously at Patton for a moment, raising an eyebrow and grimacing. Roman was baffled, too. What kind of… He didn’t get it. They fucked up. Where was the punishment?

“That’s it?” Roman asked skeptically, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. His hands were clenched so hard they hurt. He needed to know what the hell was going on and if that would really be the end of it.

“Food!” Thomas called as he carried the delivery to the kitchen. Roman watched him disappear around the corner to the kitchen and they shot back to Patton, unable to stop himself from following the motion.

“Come on, boys, apologize,” Patton said firmly. That can’t be it.

“Um, sorry, Virgil” Roman muttered, still expecting another shoe to drop and bracing himself, shifting to gripping his legs.

‘You’re safe,’ Virgil signed, making a mock apology face. ‘They don’t do that,’ Virgil seemed relieved, too.

“Thank you! Come on, let’s go eat,” Patton said, slapping his hands on his knees as he stood up off the couch. Roman winced at the loud sound and flinched back again, but he stayed seated. He wearily watched Patton leave to the kitchen. His eyes didn’t leave the path until he was sure they weren’t coming back out with a pan or something. There was just the rustling of the delivery bag coming from the kitchen and muttering about which container was what.

‘You okay?’ Virgil signed. Roman wasn’t sure Virgil actually looked kind of concerned about Roman, which was weird and new, too. Roman’s heart hurt from all this shit.

“They _really_ don’t?” Roman whispered. Virgil shook his head. “At all?” Roman struggled to believe it. He’d been in homes that didn’t hit before, but there had always been at least yelling or punishments or something. Not just… say sorry and eat dinner. Roman was relieved, but this all still felt incredibly wrong. He shouldn’t be allowed to eat dinner at least.

‘Safe,’ Virgil signed again. Roman exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“That will take some getting used to,” Roman whispered, glancing back to the corner where the kitchen entrance was. A lot of getting used to. He loosened up on his legs and took a deep breath, feeling a little light-headed.

‘It did for me,’ Virgil signed. ‘Why I saw,’ He added. Roman swallowed and nodded.

‘After dinner,’ Roman signed and looked pointedly at Virgil, trying to play off his fear a bit. He then fingerspelled revenge. Virgil smirked.

‘You wish,’ He signed back and got up from the couch. Roman followed him into the kitchen where Patton was making tea, and Thomas was recycling the bag the food came in, already unloaded on to the table. Roman placed his water bottle on the table and slowly opened the take-out container with the moo shu pork in it. He also grabbed some chopsticks and two fortune cookies, passing one Virgil’s way. He snapped the sticks and started making his rice wrap to eat. Roman was still feeling a little shaken. Just because Virgil swore they wouldn’t, didn’t mean that he could just turn it off like that. But if he was allowed to eat dinner, he should try.

“You doing alright, kiddo?” Patton asked curiously, jabbing a fork into a piece of pineapple from his food.

“Yup,” Roman said, popping the p. He didn’t look up to Patton or Thomas, he didn’t think he could meet their eyes. “Just hungry,” Roman lied. He wasn’t hungry at the moment, but he knew the hunger would come back after he ate a little and settled down. No point in starving himself over a threat that wasn’t supposed to come. It hurt a little to eat with his tight throat, but he chewed carefully and monitored the others at the table.

Virgil was sitting on one leg with another up on the chair, eating something that smelled like a garlic spice bomb with shrimp. He looked pretty satisfied with his atomic-red food. Patton was dipping his chicken so thoroughly in the sauce that he may as well drink it. Thomas sipped some tea and used his chopsticks to eat a savory smelling beef plate. The mood seemed to be calm other than Lita weaving around like a shark under the kitchen table. Roman took a long pull of water from the bottle and tried to calm down. They all ate in silence and eventually, Roman’s shoulders loosened a little and it was a bit easier to eat.

“When did you learn sign language, Virgil?” Patton asked cheerily. Virgil sighed deeply and didn’t respond, pushing around his food while Patton looked at him expectantly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable,” Patton said after a moment. Virgil nodded and went back to eating, notably less enthusiastically, prodding his food a few times before taking a small bite.

“We’ll have to take a class,” Thomas said to Patton, who nodded. That meant Roman couldn’t openly call Virgil a fuck face anymore in a while, which was a shame. It was fun to openly tease someone like that. Virgil shot Roman a look, maybe sharing the sentiment. Roman meant nothing mean by it and he was pretty certain Virgil knew that which just made it more fun. Roman felt bad for signing at Virgil in front of Patton and Thomas. Maybe he didn’t want them to know, and Roman blew his cover. Roman signed sorry and Virgil just shook his head dismissively. Either he didn’t want to hear it or it wasn’t a big deal.

‘Did I fuck up?’ Roman signed, hoping for some clarification. Virgil shook his head again, which was hope-giving, but Roman couldn’t be sure what he meant or even if he was lying. The sounds of eating seemed a little loud as Roman berated himself mentally.

‘No. Learned to talk to them,’ Virgil signed to Roman after a painful moment. So Roman didn’t fuck up too bad. He did out Virgil before he was ready to ask them to learn, though. He was definitely a shit head for that.

‘Fast learner,’ Roman signed back at him with a half-smile. Virgil looked at him a little oddly and nodded. He seemed to learn farther in a month or two than Roman did in class.

“Could you maybe clue us in, Roman?” Thomas asked carefully.

“Uh,” Roman paused and looked pointedly at Virgil. Virgil paused and seemed to consider it. Roman awkwardly poked the moo shu in the take-out container while he waited. Virgil eventually nodded slowly to Roman. Patton seemed to light up.

“Thanks, kiddo!” Patton said cheerily. Virgil just rolled his eyes at Patton.

“Virgil said he started learning so he could talk with you guys,” Roman explained. Patton looked touched. Roman exhaled in relief, the tension of the moment feeling like it had lifted. Even Virgil didn’t look upset anymore.

“Does that mean we can revisit you seeing a therapist?” Thomas asked, sounding hopeful. Virgil held up his arms in a big X and shook his head violently. “Okay, okay,” Thomas held up his hands in defeat. Well, Virgil looked upset again. Roman couldn’t blame him, though.

“We’ll start learning tomorrow. You’ll have to let us practice with you,” Patton chirped and took way too large a bite of food. Roman’s face probably mirrored Virgil’s, which was a little disgust and a little impressed.

“Patton, you’re setting a bad example, take smaller bites,” Thomas chided him.

“They’re old enough to know better than to do this,” Patton said. Roman snickered, and Virgil raised his eyebrow.

“So are _you_ , Pat,” Thomas groaned and pat Patton on the shoulder, shaking his head slightly.

“Did you choose to foster teenagers so Patton couldn’t accidentally impress on young minds his bad table manners?” Roman chuckled. Patton looked a little surprised but laughed after a moment.

“No, though I suppose it’s a bonus,” Thomas said. Now Patton looked hurt. “Darling, we _jest_. I’m sorry, right Roman?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Roman mumbled. God damn, what was wrong with him? He didn’t think he was being mean, but he clearly was being an asshole. Well, if he was an asshole, he was an asshole. Hopefully, they’d get a nicer kid after they kicked Roman out.

“It seemed like where we could help the most,” Thomas replied Roman’s original question. Roman just stared at the two for a moment and went back to eating. He didn’t really have anything to say to that. He opted not to say anything else and just tried to ignore the light conversation between Patton and Thomas from there.

The food was good and Virgil could toss the atomic red shrimp into his mouth using chopsticks, which was cool to watch. Plus Patton kept eating like he didn’t fear death, which was also amusing. The mood at the table was relatively light while they finished eating and it was nice to catch a break. Family dinners were always hard for Roman. It was much easier with the Finleys where he just fed the kids while they watched TV in the evenings. Roman prepped and ate his last rice wrapper, feeling much better. Probably because he really was hangry earlier.

Roman finished what he had and got up to pick up all of his food trash. Virgil handed his container off to Roman, and he took those as well and got a paper towel to clean where he ate. Patton finished his food, but Thomas got up to get a container. Roman moved to wipe down the rest of the table when Patton moved his food trash.

“Thanks, kiddo!” Patton smiled brightly and took his things to the trash. Roman smiled back.

“You think you two can avoid signing obscene things to each other when we get back to the game? We still have a few turns left before the game is over,” Thomas asked after he put his food container in the fridge.

“Define _obscene_ ,” Roman stated smarmily, wiping up a final patch of sweet and sour on the table.

“Roman,” Thomas said with a warning tone.

“Fine,” Roman conceded. Virgil just rolled his eyes. He obviously wasn’t interested in staying away from obscenities. Neither was Roman, it was half the fun of Mario Party, but he didn’t want to get in trouble any further. They could probably get away with it if they were careful. Roman was feeling a little emboldened after not getting in trouble.

— ✪ —

Roman had stolen his coins back after a few turns, which resulted in Virgil signing something lengthy and assuredly very offensive about Roman’s face. Roman managed to stay impassive, so they didn’t get in trouble, but he stuck his tongue out at him when Thomas and Patton weren’t looking. There weren’t that many turns left till the end of the game, though, and Virgil had won the whole thing. Roman compared Virgil to a donkey butt while Thomas got up to plug in his controller. Virgil stuck out his tongue in response.

‘Enough of your faces today. You all suck,’ Virgil signed and got up to head out. Roman chuckled. Virgil was fun.

“Thanks for spending time with us, kiddo!” Patton called after him with a smile. “I think I’m going to watch Parks & Rec if you want to stay out here, Roman,” Patton offered, sounding hopeful.

“Oh, I’m staying, then,” Thomas said excitedly and sat back down on the couch closer to Patton than when they were while playing the game.

“Sure,” Roman shrugged. It’s not like he had anything better to do. Roman got up to plug in his controller and settle back down on to the couch. He’d seen the show before, but it re-watching things always made him feel comfortable. Plus, he could play on his phone while he watched so he wouldn’t get bored. Roman settled into a corner so he could lean against his arm to hold up his head while he looked at his phone. Thomas wrapped his arm around Patton’s shoulder and Lita jumped up and laid her head on Patton’s lap. The intro playing had already relaxed him a bit. Roman grabbed the afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over himself after waiting a moment to make sure they didn’t want it.

Roman half-watched the show and half checked out his social, just sort of spacing out to give his brain a break. Sometimes he reached over and scratched Lita’s back when her tail wagged and reminded Roman she was right there. Roman’s brain was too busy to run free, and he got a break from dealing with all of this shit. There was a certain kind of contentment to it. Roman seemed to have won the foster parent lottery after 5 years. Remus sure didn’t though. Shit. Well, there goes that contentment. Roman sighed and rubbed his face.

“Getting tired, kiddo?” Patton asked and leaned forward to look at Roman.

“Oh, uh, no,” Roman stumbled. The opposite if anything, Roman was usually pretty wired at night. And now he was feeling pissed and guilty.

“Well, you might want to start working on it. We’ve only got one more episode till we’re turning it off. Maybe you should get off your phone and let your brain relax,” Thomas suggested. That’s what he was doing until he thought about Remus. Roman sighed and put his phone down on the side table. Roman tried to focus on the TV, but his mind kept going back to Remus and how he needed a nightlight to sleep like a baby and how unfair everything was and, well, everywhere he didn’t want it to go.

“Roman, your foot’s tapping a storm there. Is something wrong?” Thomas asked after a few minutes. Roman’s eyes shot to Thomas, then his foot, then to the floor, and then back to the TV. He forced his foot to stop tapping, but his leg had a buzzing feeling in it when he stopped, making him feel uncomfortable. Roman shook his head and focused on the show.

“Pal, you’re going to make your cuticles bleed if you keep picking at them like that,” Patton said gently, another few minutes later. Roman looked at his hand and realized what he was doing and shoved his hands awkwardly in his jeans pockets. Both his legs felt like they were buzzing now. There was no chance of him focusing on the show anymore.

“I’m, uh, just going to go shower for bed,” Roman sighed, his face slightly warm with embarrassment.

“We’re here if you need us, champ,” Patton offered as Roman got up off the couch, grabbed his phone, and headed upstairs. Roman glanced at the bathroom door and saw it was closed with the light on. Virgil must have been in there already. Roman sighed and headed into his room. He wished he could go back to playing that adventure game while he waited. There was that cave he wanted to explore when Patton stopped him. Roman shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, taking a breath. He could draw his character and listen to the soundtrack while he waited. That was almost like getting to play.

Roman pulled out the wheeled desk chair and opened up his sketchbook. He couldn’t fully remember what his character looked like, but he would take some creative liberties, anyway. Roman put on his headphones and found some music to get into the zone. Just a few songs to let Virgil finish in the bathroom. He still had some time. It was only just before 9 o’clock. Roman got into drawing and let things drop away while he focused.

A knock came at his door. “Hey, Roman, lights out, it’s already past 10:30,” Thomas said through the door. Roman looked up from his sketchbook and checked his phone. He cursed under his breath. He hadn’t gone to shower yet, and he needed one after two runs.

“Um, okay,” Roman said back, heading to his drawers to grab some pajamas. Roman rushed past Thomas, who was now knocking on Virgil’s door into the bathroom. He’d have to speed run this shower. He’d trained for this moment. Roman stripped quickly and grabbed his oral hygiene stuff from the bag, hopping in the shower as soon as he could tolerate the temperature.

“I said go to _bed_ , not take a shower,” Thomas called through the bathroom door.

“I’ll be quick, I swear,” Roman said as clearly as he could through brushing his teeth under the flowing showerhead. Roman got out of the bathroom in 8 minutes, huffing a little as he got into his bedroom.

“Roman, when I ask you to go to bed, it means it’s time for bed,” Thomas said, sitting on Roman’s bed. “Though, I am impressed with how quickly you showered,”

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbled. “I lost track of time,”

“I can tell,” Thomas said with a raised eyebrow. “You need to work on your time-management skills,”

“I’m _well_ aware,” Roman sighed, putting his clothes in the laundry basket as Thomas stood up off Roman’s bed. Thomas raised his hand up to Roman’s shoulder, and Roman flinched away from the motion. “Sorry,” He murmured. Virgil said they didn’t do that. They didn’t do that. He was safe. They didn’t do that. Roman took a deep breath and looked at Thomas warily. Thomas dropped his hand, looking downtrodden. Roman felt bad for making him feel that way. Roman was the one who fucked up.

“It’s okay, good night Roman,” Thomas said, passing him to leave the bedroom. He turned off the light and closed the door behind him. The nightlight kicked on and Roman looked to the door in the dim light for another moment, making sure he wasn’t coming back, before plugging in his phone and crawling into bed, trying his damnedest to keep his breath even and not freak out.


	7. like finds like! today's edition: weird finds weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is a tired child.

“Wakey-wakey quiche and meat patties!” Patton chirped with two quick taps on the door. Roman slapped around blindly for an alarm clock until he realized that was Patton outside the door. Roman groaned and rubbed his face. Fuck, it was too early for chipperness. 

“I’m awake,” Roman called to the door, just to be safe. He didn’t want to get regaled with depressing pet facts this morning. He had a rough enough night after Thomas left. “Give me a sweet animal fact,” Roman added, not trusting himself to stay awake if Patton left and wanted to hear something nice.

“Oh! Ocean or river dolphins?” Patton asked through the door.

“There are river dolphins?” Roman replied sleepily while he rubbed his eyes.

“River dolphins can sometimes have pods of primarily males or females, instead of more heterogeneous pods that are typical for the species. That means there might be pods of queer dolphins out there, living their best lives together!” Patton said through the door, sounding excited.

“Thanks, Patton,” Roman called back. He yawned and crawled across the bed to get up.

“Anytime, kiddo! I’ll be back in ten minutes if you’re not up,” Patton warned him cheerily.

“I’m getting up, dude, it’s fine,” Roman grunted as he got off the bed. Roman stumbled around his room for some clothes.

“I’ll still be back, just in case,” Patton said cheerily. Roman rolled his eyes. If there was any fault to Patton and Thomas Roman found so far, it’s that they were morning people and Roman didn’t even feel like he fully woke up until like 2 PM. Who wakes up at this hour on weekends? Who wants to wake up at this hour _in general_? If Roman even got six hours of sleep, it’d be a generous assumption.

Roman changed and went to the bathroom to handle his morning business. Virgil must have been in there, though. The door was closed and Roman could see the bathroom light on under it. He yawned again and sat down on the wall near the door to wait for him to come out.

The next thing he knew, Virgil gave him a swift kick in the thigh while he slept on the floor. Roman bolted upright and hit his head on the wall. He groaned and rubbed his head, flipping off Virgil with this other hand. Virgil just fingerspelled ‘ha ha’ slowly and headed downstairs.

“Everything okay up there? What was that noise?” Thomas called up the stairs, and Roman could hear him ascending the stairs hastily. Thomas looked down at Roman on the floor with concern. Roman just looked around blearily. He had no idea what was going on. It was too early for events.

“What happened?” Thomas asked, holding out a hand to help Roman up. Roman shook his head, and Thomas backed up.

“Nothing. I just found the wall,” Roman grumbled and got up. He waved vaguely and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“It sure didn’t _sound_ like nothing,” Thomas stated through the bathroom door. “Virgil didn’t hurt you, did he?” His voice was dripping with apprehension. It was _also_ too early for this much emotion.

“Of course not, he couldn’t hurt me if he tried,” Roman chuckled bitterly through the door. “Like I said, just found the wall,” Roman didn’t hear Thomas walk away. “I’m tried and an idiot. I _promise_ I’m fine and Virgil did nothing to hurt me,” It was barely a kick. If anything, it’d be weird if he didn’t kick him awake. What was he supposed to do? Suddenly being able to talk? Roman didn’t think he could handle regular contact either, Virgil had leaned away from the others and kept at least three feet of space normally. A quick kick was the most reasonable thing. It was surprising enough that Virgil got close enough to kick him, if anything.

“You’re not an _idiot_ , Roman,” Thomas said firmly. “All right. I didn’t think he did, but the circumstances seemed a little suspicious,” Thomas sounded really relieved. “My brothers and I certainly got into a few scuffles when we were kids, at least,” He added. Roman rolled his eyes and started brushing his teeth. Roman just met the dude, and he wasn’t dumb enough to get into fights with Virgil. He’d never throw himself or another foster kid under the bus like that.

Roman came down to Patton, dancing around slightly as he served up portions of a quiche and breakfast sausage. Roman sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was too early for this much energy, too. Patton was powered by the sun or something. Roman grabbed a glass and got some water, sitting down dramatically at the table.

“Something got your goat, kiddo?” Patton asked cordially, placing the rest of the quiche back down next to the stove and grabbing two pieces of toast, which he slid on Virgil and Roman’s plates.

“Bridge troll,” Roman mumbled and picked up his fork to attempt eating, though his stomach definitely wasn’t awake yet.

“Oh, no, did it not have enough money for the toll troll?” Patton followed up, sounding kind of concerned, as if bridge trolls were a real issue. Roman was mostly just surprised he was playing along.

“It paid the toll, but it was too tired to run and the troll grabbed it anyway,” Roman said sourly. He related to the goat, which was not a thought Roman ever anticipated having.

“Well, that’s not fair of the troll,” Patton pouted, sitting down at the table.

“He’s a bridge troll. They’re not exactly known for _fairness_. Maybe a dragon will come to save it before it’s eaten, it’s too soon to say,” Roman offered, sleepily stabbing at his quiche.

‘You are weird,’ Virgil signed at Roman.

‘Glass houses,’ Roman signed sluggishly in return. He was one to talk, Virgil was wearing all that eye makeup on the wrong side of his eyes again. Thomas huffed a little.

“Please tell me you two are at least being friendly,” Thomas said.

‘So fucking friendly,’ Virgil signed with an over-the-top fake smile.

“ _Very_ friendly,” Roman said, and fingerspelled ‘Complete fucking gentlemen,’ at Virgil. They better get it out before Thomas and Patton realized what they are actually saying. Roman would love to make a cock-sucking joke, but that sign was probably way too obvious. Virgil smirked and got up, grabbing a thing of hot sauce out of the fridge. He liberally doused his quiche in it and went back to eating.

‘Are you a masochist?’ Roman fingerspelled the last part, not knowing the word. That smelled like death.

‘Afraid of heat?’ Virgil signed back and passed the bottle over. Roman knew this was a trap, but wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He couldn’t stop himself from dumping some hot sauce on his breakfast, probably even a little too much. It was astonishingly tasty until he needed to down his glass of water. ‘Wimp,’ Virgil fingerspelled when Roman got up to get a refill.

‘Bitch,’ Roman signed back, panting slightly. He was fucking awake now, that’s for sure.

“Roman, are you okay?” Patton asked. “Virgil likes things pretty spicy,”

“Of course I’m _fine_ , I just was surprised. It’s delicious,” Roman huffed, half-lying. It was delicious until it _hurt_ , anyway. Roman refilled his water glass with milk. He still had to finish that quiche. He took a deep, somewhat burning breath, and went back at it.

Lita was bumping at Roman’s feet as he finished his quiche from hell, eating his toast like mana from heaven. Toast didn’t burn. The toast was everything. Hot sauce and eggs were great together, but maybe not at the level Virgil liked to eat it.

“Give me a minute, Lita,” Roman said, sipping at his milk.

“I can take her out today, Roman, you don’t have to,” Patton offered to go instead. “I could use the j-o-g,” He added.

“No, I like it. I’d like to go,” Roman said, picking up the pace with the rest of his breakfast. He really did enjoy going for a low-stakes run. For a while running at all used to stress him out more, but there were extenuating circumstances with that, after all. A cute dog in a safe neighbourhood made it all much more relaxing.

“How about I go with you, then?” Patton said. “I don’t enjoy using the treadmill in the garage as much as getting some fresh air,” Roman was a little confused that Patton wanted Roman’s permission to go outside his own house and walk his own dog.

“Sure?” Roman said, looking oddly at Patton. Roman finished the last of his breakfast sausage and milk and downed another glass of water before rinsing up his dishes. Lita was happily trotting around at his feet while he rinsed up. He took Patton’s plate when he got up and stood behind him, too.

“You don’t have to do that, kiddo,” Patton said with a compassionate smile.

“I’m already here with wet hands,” Roman shrugged and finished them off. He dried up and Patton grabbed two water bottles from the fridge for them. “You ready to go, Lita?” Roman asked as he grabbed the leash off the hook. Patton put his glasses on the counter. Lita bounded around at his feet before Patton did a pushing-down hand motion that made Lita settle down at once. Virgil got up to get seconds while Roman hooked up Lita to her leash. Shit, he didn’t know he could get seconds. Well, whatever, it was enough. Lita yanked him to the door, and they headed out of the house.

Lita sprinted out and Roman started running along with her with long strides. Roman kept pace while she ran her heart out. When Lita finally stopped at the fire hydrant at the street corner, Roman took a long sip of water for the heat still lingering in his throat from the hot sauce. The deep breaths he took while running kind of hurt. Damn that Virgil and his demon tongue. Roman took a burning breather.

Some panting noises came up behind him while Lita sniffed around at what were probably other dog markings. Roman turned to see Patton jogging up, looking pretty winded.

“You… are _really_ fast… champ,” Patton panted, jogging up and stopping to catch his breath.

“Running fast is how I survived this far,” Roman said flippantly, distracted by Lita tugging at the leash. Roman didn’t let her move forward yet while Patton was holding his knees and catching his breath. Patton looked up and made a concerned face. Shit, what did he say? He just responded automatically, he couldn't remember. “Um, what did I say?” Roman asked with worry. God damnit, did he fuck up again?

“It’s fine, Roman… don’t worry,” Patton panted and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Let’s _walk_ -walk for a bit,” Patton added. Roman nodded and started walking forward. Lita started happily moving along, sniffing things every few feet at this leisurely pace. “It’s no wonder she likes going with you already. You’d do well in track or something,”

“Extracurriculars take time and money,” Roman said dismissively and took another drink of water.

“That they do,” Patton said. “But if you’re interested, you shouldn’t let that stop you,”

“You didn’t tell me what I said,” Roman changed the subject back. “I get that it’s fine or whatever,” Roman added under his breath.

“You don’t know what you said, kiddo?” Patton asked with confusion.

“Stuff just slips out sometimes and I don’t always remember what I said,” Roman explained, slightly sheepishly.

“You implied you… wouldn’t _be here_ if you weren’t a good runner,” Patton replied, sounding troubled.

“Oh, well, yeah, we’d still be half a block back if we were going at _this_ pace,” Roman chuckled while Lita sniffed a mailbox.

“I’m pretty certain that’s _not_ what you meant. Do you maybe need to _talk_ to somebody? Like a therapist?” Patton asked gently.

“What? No! Of course not,” Roman shot quickly. “I’m _fine_ , I don’t need therapy,” Therapy was way too expensive, and they’d probably tell Patton and Thomas he was a bad kid and then they wouldn’t want him anymore and then the state would know he had problems and then he’d be harder to place because he’d be a problem child with special needs and he’d have to dig up all this stuff he didn’t want to think about and would rather just forget and it would be even harder to ever-

“Woah, kiddo, _breathe_!” Patton said loudly, interrupting Roman’s train of thought. Roman realized he had stopped and was holding his hair, Lita circling nervously around his feet. Roman slowly lowered his hands and passed off Lita’s leash to Patton, who seemed to be holding his hand out for it.

They already had a kid with problems, real ones, they didn’t need two. Virgil needed them more. Not talking when spoken to wouldn’t fly with other foster families. Roman had already fucked up a few times. He probably wasn’t making it long, anyway. They wouldn’t actually bother setting an appointment. This was just posturing or something like parents do when the social worker is there. Roman breathed deep and tried to stay centered. Shit, he’d made another scene in public. He needed to get away from here.

“Are you okay, Roman?” Patton asked gently.

“Yup. Just… thinking,” Roman tried to excuse himself. “Lita probably wants to speed up again,” Roman tried to change the subject.

“She can run more later, I’m more concerned about you,” Patton said softly. It had to be posturing, right? They were good foster parents, they wouldn’t want a fuck up like Roman around. They’d want a good kid with good grades who can pay attention and be pleasant. Roman wasn’t the right fit. He couldn’t be a good kid no matter how hard he tried. He’d had plenty of people tell him that, so he knew it by heart. Roman took a long drink while Patton looked expectantly at him.

“I’m fine,” Roman said with a smile.

“Lita sure doesn’t think so,” Patton said, pointing at Lita, who was sitting at Patton’s feet and staring at Roman as well, looking very nervous.

“Splendid thing she’s a dog, then,” Roman said cavalierly. Patton looked slightly sour at that comment. “It’s getting hot out, let’s get a move on,” Roman tried to get out of this situation again, seeming to have made it worse. He really felt like he needed to get out of here.

“Roman, I’m not moving from the spot until I get an honest answer out of you,” Patton said firmly. Did they really have to do this right here, in front of some stranger’s house? Making the scene worse?

“I’ll _be_ fine, then,” Roman said. He’d figure it out. His current caseworker was okay. He actually listened when Roman said the parents were awful. He was almost old enough to get a job if he could walk to it, and then he could buy his own food and things. He took another deep breath and smiled again.

“That’s a more _honest_ answer, but you’re still not being _completely_ honest,” Patton said, starting to walk forward again.

“A run will clear my head,” Roman offered, holding out his hand for the leash. Patton looked speculatively at Roman for a moment and passed the leash back. “You ready to run, Lita? Run fast?” Roman asked sweetly. Lita looked confused for a moment and kept trotting along. Stupid vibes-sensing powers dogs had.

“If you count down from three, she’ll probably start running,” Patton offered, starting to jog, possibly trying to get a head start.

“3, 2, 1, let’s go!” Roman shouted and Lita took off like a freaking rocket ship, Roman barely keeping pace with her. He focused on the feeling of his burning throat and lungs instead of the stupid thoughts as he pushed himself to keep up with this speed demon dog. Lita slowed as they rounded the block corner, but they kept running all the way home. Roman had checked behind them, and they had lost Patton again. Lita had lost steam by the time they had gotten back to the house, and Roman appreciated the cool-down jog. When they got inside, Roman unleashed Lita and collapsed against the wall just outside the entryway, taking deep breaths of the cooled air inside.

“Where’s Pat?” Thomas asked, looking up from a book on the couch.

“Almost… here,” Roman said breathlessly, finishing off his water bottle and leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Holy shit, his throat. He needed to remember to never eat anything Virgil gave him.

“You guys let that dog run you ragged, huh?” Thomas asked, getting up from the couch. “Let me refill that for you,” Roman opened his eyes for Thomas, reaching out for the water bottle. Roman was too tired to care and held up the bottle for Thomas to take.

Patton came huffing in as Roman was chugging water from the refilled bottle. His throat burned even more than it did when he first had the damn hot sauce.

“Roman… is very fast,” Patton said between breaths, slowly laying on the living room floor. “Require ice cream,” Patton groaned.

“God, yes, _please_ ,” Roman croaked against the wall.

“Language… Roman,” Patton panted.

“It’s not even _9 AM_ , Patton,” Thomas said chidingly.

“I don’t care,” Patton sighed.

“Will you settle on yogurt?” Thomas offered.

“I will fight you,” Patton moaned, fanning himself.

“I’ll get you two some yogurt. You can have ice cream after lunch,” Thomas said humorously, heading into the kitchen.

“We’re making sundaes at lunch,” Patton said, starting to catch his breath.

“Kickass,” Roman exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed again.

“Roman, no swearing,” Patton scolded Roman weakly. Whatever, he wasn’t staying, anyway. Thomas pushed a cool bowl against Roman’s hands a few moments later, and Roman accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you,” Roman said and started eating yogurt appreciatively on the floor.

“You will have to sit up, Patton,” Thomas said, offering a hand to Patton. Patton took it and slowly sat up, shifting to sit against the couch to eat his yogurt.

“I’m going to get back to work,” Thomas said, heading into his office and closing the door behind him. Virgil came down the stairs holding a purple laptop. He stopped and stared at Patton and Roman and put his laptop down on the ottoman.

‘This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve walked in on. But yogurt party is weird,’ Virgil signed.

“What’s the weirdest thing?” Roman asked, unable to sign back with his hands occupied. He probably couldn’t stop eating the yogurt if he tried.

‘Patton crying while eating tacos,’ Virgil signed, having to fingerspell tacos when Roman looked oddly at him.

“I’m not sure that _is_ weird for him,” Roman exhaled in relief, finishing the yogurt. His throat felt leagues better.

“What’s not weird for who?” Patton asked.

‘Thomas juggled fruit while singing,’ Virgil signed another weird thing he’d walked in on.

“Phenomenal,” Roman exhaled and put the bowl down on the floor, leaning back against the wall again. He focused on breathing for a few more moments. Roman reached down for the yogurt bowl and stood slowly, collecting Patton’s bowl as he passed to wash them in the kitchen.

“Thanks, kiddo. I still need some air,” Patton groaned. Roman rinsed their dishes and grabbed Patton’s glasses from the counter before going back to the living room. Virgil was showing something to Patton on his laptop, squatting a few feet in front of him.

“I’m sorry, bud, I can’t make out what that is without my glasses,” Patton apologized, squinting at the laptop screen. Virgil looked up to Roman, put down his laptop, and signed towards Roman.

“He wants to buy a book,” Roman translated.

“Oh, how much do you need?” Virgil held up eight fingers. “That’s no problem, hand me the laptop,” Patton smiled and dragged himself up to sit on the couch. Virgil nodded and picked up his laptop and passed it over, barely close enough to hand it off. “Thanks for translating, Roman. Will you get my glasses from the kitchen, Virgil? I’ve got to be able to read for this,” Patton said and started typing.

“I’ve got them,” Roman said, sitting down on the couch with his freshly refilled water bottle. He handed Patton his glasses and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes again. God, he hated waking up this early. Every glance at the clock was a sadistic reminder that he’s not asleep at this ungodly hour.

“This book’s got a few _mature themes_ , kiddo. I don’t know about this,” Patton said warily.

“The foster care system _is_ mature themes, I’m sure he’d be fine. He can always text you or whatever. _Maze Runner_ is on that shelf in my room and that book has, like, _literal_ bladed murder monsters killing children in some convoluted humanity survival scheme. I doubt it’s much worse than _that_ if he’s read it,” Roman said dismissively, leaning back and stretching his legs out. His calves burned a bit still. Patton made a distressed noise. Roman opened his eyes and looked back over to Patton, who looked dismayed.

“Oh, that was a best seller! It said 13+, I didn’t know,” Patton gasped. “Would you text me if any of this book freaks you out?” He asked Virgil with heavy concern. Virgil rolled his eyes dramatically and nodded. “Okay, I’ll buy it for you, then,” Patton said, sounding slightly defeated. He diligently clicked through and handed Virgil back his laptop. Virgil took it and basically skittered out away and went up the stairs two at a time. Man, that kid had long legs.

“Did you want to play that game again? You wanted to play it later yesterday, but you were napping most of the afternoon,” Patton asked. Roman paused, considering it.

“Would that be okay?” Roman asked carefully. He was a little conflicted about getting far in a game he might never finish, but also by never getting a chance to play it again. He also kind of wanted to avoid any further conversations with Patton right now.

“Of course it would! I’ll stop you for lunchtime this time, though,” Patton added. Maybe Patton would drop it. Roman wanted to play more than run away when it came down to it.

“Cool,” Roman smiled and got up to set up the game. He was feeling less upset after the run. Even if he could never finish this save, he’d just have to play as far as he could. Maybe when he was old enough, he could buy it himself. It wasn’t that long until he was no longer a ward of the state. A couple more years was nothing, he’d made it five already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 Warnings:  
>  Food, Dogs, Accidental Harm, Money Issues, Refusal of Treatment, Panic, Toxic Behaviours, Implied Child Endangerment, Negative Self-Talk, Discussion of the Foster System, Death Mention, Fantasy Violence Mention 
> 
> Happy National Roman Angst Day  
>  Sorry it's not angister, but enjoy some more hints that Roman is definitely _not okay_


	8. the story of the traumatized chef and a local bastard will break your heart!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is not a fan of grills and Patton is not a fan of Roman's worldview.

“So, you said you could cook. What kind of stuff can you make?” Patton asked. Roman paused the game and checked the time, just a little bit afternoon. Roman rubbed his painfully dry eyes and thought for a moment while he tried to focus on reality instead of the game he had been playing all morning.

“Um, general food? I’m not like a _gourmet chef_ or anything,” Roman said. “Food kids like, I guess,” He added.

“Oh, did you cook dinner while babysitting?” Patton asked, sounding interested.

“Yeah, that too. I did lots of cooking in my old place. My foster parent’s kids were too young for the stove,” Roman explained placidly, leaning back on the floor to look at Patton on the couch.

“That’s very nice of you,” Patton smiled warmly. Roman shrugged dismissively. It wasn’t exactly his choice, but he enjoyed cooking anyway.

“Thanks, I guess,” Roman said, feeling a little confused. “I’m guessing you ask because it’s lunchtime and I need to stop?” Roman pointed at the clock.

“Well, _maybe_ we could cook together,” Patton offered, sounding oddly hopeful. “What sounds good to you?” He asked.

“I don’t even know what ingredients you have,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, still feeling a bit befuddled.

“Just think of what sounds good, and then we can find something similar based on what we’ve got,” Patton said, leaning back on the couch. “I think I want something with _cheese_ ,” Patton said, tapping his chin considerately. Roman saved his game while he thought.

“Cheeseburgers sound good,” Roman suggested after saving the game. “I’m kind of craving the protein after this morning’s run,”

“That sounds good to me! Let’s make four in case anybody else wants one. We’ve got all the things for cheeseburgers if we use bread instead of buns. We can fire up the grill,” Patton said, getting up.

“Patton, you are _not allowed_ to use the grill!” Thomas called irately from his office. Roman wasn’t even aware Thomas was listening. Roman looked from Thomas’s open office door to Patton with his eyebrow raised.

“Patton, what did you _do_?” Roman asked, quitting the game. He was at a better stopping point this time, but there was an interesting side quest he’d honestly rather be doing than eating. But he was also interested in what earned that reaction from Thomas.

“So, I used too much lighter fluid, it’s not a big deal,” Patton said, sounding defensive and crossing his arms loosely.

“The food was _inedible_ , Pat!” Thomas called crossly.

“I _can_ use the grill,” Roman said, chuckling as he got up to put the controller away. “He can just _supervise_ ,”

“Who says I want a _15-year-old_ playing with a charcoal grill?” Thomas called back incredulously.

“Somebody who wants a burger. I can cook and grill just fine. Nobody has been poisoned or died, and it's all been edible,” Roman said, feeling a little defensive himself, now.

“Fine, but _I’ll_ supervise,” Thomas called.

“Um, I guess get let’s get out the stuff while I wait for Thomas, then,” Roman said, rolling his eyes. “If it’s charcoal, I need to light it soon,” Roman called.

“I’ll be out in a second,” Thomas called.

Roman and Thomas loaded the grill with charcoals and lit it together, Thomas insisting on doing most of it. Roman felt like Thomas didn’t think he was capable, but he kept his mouth shut other than perhaps some grumbling. Patton was in the kitchen, slicing up the various vegetables when Roman came back in to prep the burger meat. They worked quietly, other than Patton humming a song from Moana. Roman sang along under his breath while he made the patties. It was impossible not to sing along to ‘How Far I’ll Go.'

Once there was nothing left to prep, Roman stepped onto the back Patio to let Thomas know he could take over watching the coals. It was warm out this afternoon with very little breeze. Good for grilling, but he’d probably get hot quickly.

“Hey, you can get back to work or whatever, I already know where the hose is and all,” Roman said, walking outside, Lita rushing out back with him.

“I’m _supervising_ ,” Thomas said, not looking up from his book. “We can both make sure there're no fireballs,”

“Geez, that sounds like a little more than just ‘too much lighter fluid’ kind of issues,” Roman mumbled.

“You can grab a book if you’d also like to read while you wait,” Thomas offered. “There're all kinds of novels on the shelf in your bedroom. Virgil goes through ‘em like a kid eats candy on Halloween. We figured you’d like the option to read them before we donated them,” Thomas added, eying the grill suspiciously over his book. Roman shrugged and headed back inside to check out the books. So he was allowed to touch them, after all.

There wasn’t a ton of sword and sorcery, Roman’s favourite genre, but there were plenty of fantasy novels. When Roman had first skimmed it, there were only a few books that he’d already read at a library or in school. There were plenty of unfamiliar things for him to read. It was basically a small bookstore of YA novels. Roman found one about all the adults disappearing and the kids develop supernatural powers. It sounded pretty cool. He picked that one and headed back downstairs to join Thomas reading in the shade outside, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen on the way.

Lita had nudged his hand dangling off the patio bench while he reclined and read. Roman looked down to see her holding a Tennis ball and opened his hand for her. She dropped it and he chucked it across the side of the yard the grill wasn’t on. They had continued like this for a while. Lita would take a long time running around the yard with it before returning to Roman. He got up to check the grill once or twice, but in general, he just lounged and quietly sung Moana songs to himself while reading. Patton had gotten them stuck in his head. If there was more of a breeze or if he had a smoothie or something it would be a pretty nice way to spend an afternoon. The patio furniture was partially in the house's shade and it was nice to read a book while lazily playing with Lita. Thomas just seemed to make sure the fire never got out of hand. He would stare at the grill contemptuously sometimes, but he mostly watched it warily and read his book.

When the coals were finally hot enough, Thomas didn’t interfere while Roman grilled, either. He watched more closely, perhaps gripping his book a little tight, but didn’t micromanage him much other than safety reminders. Roman might have snapped if he tried, too, so he was thankful. He was too tired and hot for faithlessness. A flame flicked up around one of the patties and Thomas moved to stand up.

“Beef fat melts into the fire, Thomas, it’s fine, it’ll do that,” Roman rolled his eyes. Thomas watched the grill for a moment longer and settled back in his chair. “When is the last time you grilled?” Roman asked. He acted like the grill would attack him.

“We haven’t lit it since _the incident_ ,” Thomas said dramatically.

“Guess we all have our baggage,” Roman laughed while he tended the coals. “It couldn’t have been _that_ bad if you’ve still got a house and a grill, though,” Roman said blithely and tended the burgers.

“Fireballs are _fireballs_ , Roman,” Thomas said firmly. “It’s still a bad thing even if everything is okay,” He added after a moment. Roman huffed and flipped a burger in a hot patch. Roman just said it wasn’t that bad, but he wasn’t going to argue about it. Lita ran up with the tennis ball again, and Roman threw it across the yard for her. Roman sung through the Moana reprise as the burgers cooked.

“Hey, Thomas, I need a plate, can you watch these while I run and get one?” Roman asked when all the burgers looked close to being ready.

“I’ll get it. You seem to know what you’re doing,” Thomas said, closing his book and standing up. Roman smiled, feeling pretty pleased with himself. He pressed down the burgers to make sure they were done and shifted the burgers away from the center of the fire to keep them from overcooking. Thomas came back out with a serving tray while Roman put the cheese on the burgers to let it melt.

“These look _great_ , kiddo!” Patton said exuberantly as Roman came back inside. Thomas was dumping out some water very slowly on the coals to put them out. “Lita, sit,” Patton commanded as the dog got a little too excited at the food.

“I’ll go ask Virgil if he wants any,” Thomas called when he came back in. Patton uncovered the burger making components while Roman got a refill of water and chugged some. The heat of the grill was really getting to him, and he was thankful to be back inside. Patton had assembled his burger while Roman sat at the kitchen table pulling at the neck of his shirt to fan himself a bit.

‘Hello, fuck head,’ Virgil signed as he came into the kitchen, wearing an enormous pair of headphones.

‘Hello, Bastard,’ Roman signed back and took another big swig of water.

“You want me to make your burger, champ?” Patton asked, looking to Roman.

“It’s fine, I can get it in a second,” Roman said, fanning himself again.

“I’ll make it for you. You’ve been out there in the grill's heat for a while,” Patton said. Roman just nodded and relished the cool air inside. “We’re planning to have sundaes after this if you want to eat with us, Virgil,” Patton offered as he busied himself making a second burger.

‘Curses,’ Virgil fingerspelled. ‘Junk food, my weakness,’ He added.

“I should have made bacon,” Patton said disappointedly and passed Roman a plate with a burger on it. “Oh, chips!” Patton got up and pulled out a bag of chips to set on the table. Virgil went straight for them. Roman was still too hot to eat a hot burger. He had more water and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Roman felt a nudge on his shoe and looked up to Virgil with a sardonic smirk.

‘I’m will laugh so hard when you fall asleep and fall off,’ Virgil signed. Roman rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan, looking back to the ceiling and lazily signing fuck off.

“These are good, Roman, magnificent job. You really know what you’re doing,” Thomas said. Roman signed thank you and kept looking at the ceiling.

“Um, we don’t know ASL yet, kiddo,” Patton said, a little confused.

“Thanks,” Roman exhaled curtly.

“Something wrong?” Patton asked over Virgil loudly crunching chips. Roman shook his head dispassionately and downed some more water. He got up for a refill, enjoying some cool air from the fridge.

“There wasn’t much breeze today, it was pretty hot in the sun,” Thomas offered, maybe trying to excuse Roman was being an ass. Great, another nice thing to miss about them. Roman sighed and sat down again, now starting on his burger. 

“Virgil, can you please share some of those?” Patton asked calmly as he kept eating right out of the bag. Virgil rolled his eyes and placed a single chip on Roman’s plate. Roman signed thank you as sarcastically as he could manage and kept eating. He didn’t really care if he got any chips.

“That’s not sharing, Virgil,” Thomas gently chided him.

“That’s all I want,” Roman said quickly, staring down at his plate.

“One _singular_ chip?” Thomas asked wryly.

“Yup,” Roman said and took another bite. Virgil gave him a quizzical look, but Roman ignored it.

“Well, I’d still like some,” Patton said with a tiny pout. Virgil grimaced dramatically and passed the bag over to Patton. Patton poured out some and handed them back to Virgil, who yanked them out of his hands and continued eating them. Dude must really like salt. He wasn’t kidding when he said junk food was his weakness. Roman finished his burger and ate his chip, then got to up to clean his dishes. He quietly moved to exit the kitchen.

“Hold up,” Patton said suddenly. Roman stopped dead in his tracks and tensed. Shit. “What about _ice cream_?” Patton asked emphatically. Roman exhaled and shook his head, leaving the kitchen. He grabbed the book Thomas must have taken inside for him off the side table and went up to his room. He did really want an ice cream sundae. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate one. Maybe for his birthday? The last time he had ice cream, it was that bulk bucket that tastes kind of like ice shavings. Patton probably had the real stuff. But it was one more thing to miss, and he didn’t think he could keep his cool any longer. The food in his stomach felt like a rock when he laid down on his bed. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten, after all.

Roman tried to read the book, but his eyes wouldn’t stop jumping around the page and he kept missing things and having to go back. It was too frustrating to tolerate, so he put it down on his bedside table and laid against the wall with his phone. If he was looking at photos and videos that wouldn’t be an issue. He drummed his fingers on the bed as he scrolled through things that looked kind of interesting online. He didn’t really care what it was as long as he was doing something.

A while later, Patton appeared in his doorway looking concerned. He must have left the door open out of habit. What is with all the concern, anyway? Roman was still alive and breathing, wasn’t he?

“I’m _fine_ ,” Roman said dismissively, not looking away much from his phone and some gifset of jiggly cakes.

“People who are _actually_ fine don’t start conversations like that,” Patton said, stepping further in and crossing his arms. Roman couldn’t stop his heart from jumping and dropping his phone when Patton moved closer in. Roman closed his eyes and breathed. This is just like- Roman tried to stop himself but his brain went there, anyway. They don’t do that. _They don’t do that_. Roman tried to reassure himself. “Bud?” Patton asked with concern and Roman held up a finger with one hand and gripped the blanket with his other.

“Sorry,” Roman exhaled, sitting up in the bed and watching Patton carefully.

“Sorry about what?” Patton asked.

“Not speaking when spoken to,” Roman said quietly.

“That’s not something you need to apologize for. Sometimes we all need a moment,” Patton said compassionately. Big words for a guy who just helped Roman experience some really lovely memories all over again. God, that’s not Patton’s fault. Roman felt like a dick all over again.

“I’m _fine_ , Patton,” Roman insisted as he shifted uncomfortably. What a life, to be afraid of being trapped and afraid of open spaces with nowhere to hide. Roman eyed the doorway carefully behind Patton. If he went fast enough, he probably could get past him-

“Listen, champ, I know you’re not fine. You’re breathing hard and making an expression like you want to run and hide,” Patton said.

“That’s because I _do_ ,” Roman grumbled quietly and pulled the blanket further, gripping it tightly. He could throw it over Patton, maybe, if he needed to.

“Oh, _oh_! Did I do something to spook you? I’m so sorry, Roman,” Patton said compassionately and motioned with his hands.

“It’s not _your_ fault,” Roman hissed and dropped his head into the blanket bunched up on his legs.

“Of course it’s my fault if I scared you,” Patton said sourly.

“You don’t do that, though,” Roman mumbled and gripped his blankets.

“Don’t do _what_?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

“You _know_ ,” Roman said, looking up at him. “Wa-pish,” He said, miming an attack. “Virgil said so,” Patton looked so morose you’d assume he lost his cat or something. Roman watched warily as Patton walked in farther and sat on the edge of the bed, angling himself to face Roman near the other corner. It was a little relieving to have the exit unblocked.

“Just because we ‘don’t do _that_ ’-” Patton said with disgust “-doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be sorry if I scared you,” Patton said the rest quieter and more conciliatory.

“You’re the adult, you don’t have to be sorry,” Roman said complacently, dropping his face into the sheets again.

“Adults are just as capable of being at fault and deserving blame as kids. Even more so than kids if there're adults out there that made you think they’re not at fault for what they did to you,” Patton said gently.

“They did nothing I didn’t deserve. It was just a lesson or whatever,” Roman grumbled into his blankets. Patton let out a gasp, and Roman groaned. What did he do now? Roman was too tired for this. He wanted to bury himself in blankets but didn’t want to upset Patton worse.

“There’s no lesson _on the planet_ that should make you want to _run and hide_!” Patton spouted suddenly, making Roman flinch and sit up straight.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered automatically, stiffly sitting up against the wall, his instincts were screaming at him to run again.

“I am going to have a talk to that social worker of yours,” Patton said sourly.

“It’s not _his_ fault,” Roman mumbled quietly, trying to keep breathing.

“I’m hearing _angry_ noises,” Thomas said, peeking his head into the room.

“I can’t believe what- _oh my gosh_ -” Patton rambled and huffed.

“I think you need to go cool down, Pat,” Thomas said placatingly. Patton nodded vigorously and left the room, grumbling to himself.

“Do I _want_ to know?” Thomas asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“How am _I_ supposed to know?” Roman said bitterly, folding his arms over his legs and looking away. “You’d think this was his first time hearing about this stuff,” Roman mumbled quietly.

“What was that? Hearing about what stuff?” Thomas asked, stepping in, but this time thankfully not blocking the path. Roman watched a shadow shift across the windowpane, not sure how to answer. He didn’t want to piss off Thomas, as well. “All right, I’ll ask Patton when he cools down. That sounded like the start of one of his righteous indignation rants. I’m sorry about him, he gets really passionate sometimes,” Thomas explained. “Let me know if you need anything,” He added before walking out the door.

Roman exhaled when Thomas left, still feeling like he should run but too tired to just go. Roman took a moment to catch his breath, trying to stay present instead of the past. He could feel himself slipping and felt the soft sheets and focused on his breathing to stay in this shitty moment instead of a much worse older one.

Roman sighed and buried his head under the blankets despondently after settling down a little. He pissed off possibly one of the nicest foster parents on earth because he was a bad kid. He was too young to be haunted by his past, but here he was, sitting in a big bed he didn’t deserve in the house of a guy he just pissed off. Roman knew he was a fuckup, but it been one whole day. This must be a record for him. He’s stayed in places for a week or a month before, but keeping his head low wasn’t good enough here. He wasn’t good enough to be here. He didn’t deserve to be here. Roman ran his nails through his hair and sighed. Probably just another 5 days till he’s packed up again because he’s a bad fit or whatever they always say. Make the best of it or whatever. At least Patton didn’t yell at him.

Roman dug around in the sheets and looked for his phone to put on some music so he could try reading again. There was a decent book collection and if he really tried, he could get through a few of these chapter books before he had to leave. If he managed to read without his eyes betraying him, he was a fast reader. It’s the one hobby schools let you do without paying them, so Roman could have it no matter where he was landed at the time. He pulled up the Moana soundtrack, it still being stuck in his head, and grabbed the book, crossing his fingers his dumb brain would work this time. 


	9. foster parents don't break sad child, but sad child breaks foster parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiple conversations with Patton are uncomfortable for Roman.

Roman was sitting against the wall, reading a book in his bedroom. Well, not really. He was completely engrossed as he watched everything go down in his head, reality completely forgotten as he read.

“ _Hello_?” Someone enunciated oddly and Roman felt himself shift slightly, pulling him violently out of the book. Roman dropped it and jumped, looking around wildly. “Woah, woah, kiddo, it’s me!” Patton said, holding up his hands as if to say he was disarmed. Roman looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“Uh, Patton, hi,” Roman mumbled, blinking hard, trying to focus on the room and bring moisture back to his eyes.

“You maybe have that music on too loud if you couldn’t hear me,” Patton said sweetly. Music? Roman reached up and felt headphones on his ears. Roman looked down at his phone to see the album ended, and nothing was playing.

“I, uh, the album finished,” Roman stammered, holding up his phone to show Patton. “How long have you been here?”

“A minute or two. I knocked at first, sorry I spooked you again, there, pal,” Patton said reassuringly.

“It’s, um, alright,” Roman stuttered again, feeling incredibly shaken and confused at reality in general. “What’s, uh, what do you need?”

“Oh, we were going to start the movie soon, and you said you were interested in joining us the other day. I thought I should offer,” Patton explained with a soft smile. “Are you doing alright?”

“Um, sure,” Roman said, still feeling kind of lost. He picked up his book and grumbling when he realized he lost his page and he had no idea where he was. Roman slid the receipt he found in the cover of the book to the last chapter he could be sure he read. “I’m, um, fine,” Roman exhaled and tried to force himself to be okay.

“You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means,” Patton said humorously.

“Well, then, I’m a raging dumpster fire and life goes on without me being fine,” Roman said glibly. Patton sputtered. “What are we watching and will there be popcorn?” Roman asked as Patton looked deeply... something. Roman just watched Patton… do whatever was happening warily. Roman was glad the bed was so large as Patton flailed briefly… in frustration, maybe? Roman wasn’t sure. Either way, he was pretty terrified. “I, uh, can just stay up here in my room or whatever,” Roman offered quietly, afraid of whatever was happening right now.

“What? No! No, you’re welcome to come downstairs and watch…” Patton said, distractedly, trailing off.

“O-okay?” Roman stammered, still leaning away from Patton and watching him carefully. Virgil peeked his head in the room and made a face at him.

‘Come on,’ Virgil signed, looking annoyed.

“I-I’m not sure what’s happening with Patton?” Roman said nervously with a shrug, his eyes flitting between Virgil and Patton.

‘What did you do to him?’ Virgil signed, looking at Patton who seemed far away.

“I don’t know!” Roman said desperately flailing his hands, hoping whatever was going on would end soon.

‘Dude,’ Virgil fingerspelled. ‘You broke him,’

“Well, I certainly didn’t _mean_ to!” Roman shot.

“Guys, what’s the holdup?” Thomas called from the bottom of the stairs. Roman jumped at the sound. Virgil shrugged and slipped from the doorway quickly to clear the way for Thomas.

“Um, there-there?” Roman said, keeping his distance from Patton in case he flailed again. Roman shifted a little farther away from him. “I’m sorry?” Roman said, feeling unsure and scared. Patton may as well have been catatonic. What the fuck did Roman _do_?

Thomas leaned in from the doorway and looked at the two of them.

“Um, I tried to tell Patton I’m sorry but I don’t know if he’s listening or what’s happening and I’m really sorry I don’t know what I did wrong but I’ll try not to do it again-” Roman rambled quickly at Thomas.

“Hey, slow down Roman. Breathe,” Thomas said, stepping into the room and patting Patton on the shoulder. “Pat, you’re scaring Roman. Let’s go watch a movie,” Thomas said gently. Patton seemed to snap out of it as Thomas pulled him up by the arm.

“Oh, _right_ , yes! The movie! The Princess Bride!” Patton said loudly and suddenly, causing Roman to jump back and hit his head against the wall again. Roman hissed in pain but stayed quiet as he leaned forward and rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, kiddo, are you okay?” Patton asked and turned around quickly, reaching out for Roman. Roman nodded furiously and stared at him wide-eyed.

“Let’s give Roman his space,” Thomas suggested gently. Patton dropped his arm. “Is that ‘finding the wall’?” Thomas asked as he pulled Patton away. Roman just nodded again.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you again,” Patton said morosely, rubbing his arm. “I’ll go make that popcorn,” He said after a moment of tensely staring at each other and left the bedroom.

“It’s my fault,” Roman whispered sullenly and stared at the bed.

“I didn’t catch that,” Thomas said, thankfully keeping his distance.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry,” Roman muttered, his voice cracking slightly. “I-I keep upsetting him and I don’t know how to _stop_ ,” He ran his hand harshly through his hair and pressed against the cool wall as he tried to catch his breath.

“Patton’s got a big heart, and he feels things strongly. He once cried because he forgot he finished a chocolate bar. But… your earlier conversation shook him. It’s not your fault,” Roman froze and stared at Thomas. “Deep breath, Roman, it’s okay, he’s not mad at you. I’m not mad either. You’ve… _implied_ a few times that you had a rough go of things,” Thomas said carefully.

“So has _Virgil,_ but you don’t see him pissing off Patton 3 times in one day,” Roman grumbled angrily at himself, digging his nails into his palm.

“What are you talking about?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at Roman. Roman just huffed. That’s Virgil’s information to share if he wanted to. He wasn’t saying anything else about him and fucking up again. Roman hunched over and folded his arms. “How about I get you some water to cool down?” Thomas offered.

“I’m not _helpless,_ Thomas, I can use a water pitcher,” Roman grunted into his blanket.

“I know you can. I’m offering because I care. Patton is… unsettled by your past treatment and the way you view things. We’re not sure you have the right impression of what may have happened to you,” Thomas said carefully.

“I was there, I’ve got an excellent idea of what happened,” Roman crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m fine. I’m alive and breathing, and looking forward to _popcorn_ ,” Roman insisted, wanting to drop it.

“I think you’re functioning on a different definition of _‘fine’_ , Roman,” Thomas echoed Patton’s earlier statement, though Patton was probably just referencing the movie, and Roman hadn’t realized it.

“Then, it’s another thing I _don’t_ understand,” Roman grumbled. “But I _do_ understand that popcorn is delicious and the Princess Bride is a brilliant movie,” Roman said, trying to switch subjects. He shifted across the mattress to get out of bed.

“Roman, I think we might need to have a more complete conversation about this later,” Thomas said, moving out of the way for Roman to pass him to head downstairs.

“Getting that cool-down water,” Roman mumbled as he passed him. He was dodging this conversation as long as he could. They never went well for him in the end, even if he wasn’t already going to get the boot from Patton and Thomas. Roman didn’t like the feeling of being given up on. If they never got to start, then he wouldn’t have to deal with that all over again.

Thomas followed him downstairs quietly, letting Roman drop the subject. Virgil called him a fuckhead as he passed, so Roman called him a bitch. Virgil was perched on the arm of the couch as usual. Roman would eat his shoe if Virgil wasn’t gay. The kid couldn’t sit in a chair right to save his life. Roman poured himself a glass of water and chugged it. Roman also couldn’t remember to drink water to save his life. Was that a straight thing? Or just a fuck up thing?

Roman sat on the couch and pulled his feet up, holding his legs while he waited for Patton to return from… wherever he went. He looked curiously to Virgil across the way on the other end of the couch.

‘Did you not tell them?’ He signed over to him.

‘No. What are you asking?’ Virgil signed back.

‘That you got hit,’ Roman clarified.

‘I don’t tell them things,’ Virgil paused for a moment, possibly considering how to word it. ‘In general. No important things,’ he finished.

‘I wish I was that smart,’ Roman signed back with a sour expression.

‘Me too,’ Virgil replied with a smirk. God, what was his deal? ‘No sad. Movie time,’ Virgil signed after he misinterpreted Roman’s annoyed expression. ‘Text me which book you were reading later,’ He added after Patton had finally come back downstairs.

“Sorry for the wait, kiddos, I had to make a phone call,” Patton said as he descended. “I’ll pop those popperoonis, you guys can start without me,”

“I already have it handled,” Thomas called from the kitchen. “Be right out, it’s just starting to pop,” Roman could start smelling the artificial buttery goodness filling the air. Patton grabbed the remote and started the movie. Roman leaned back and sighed. Patton shot Roman and concerned glance, but he really didn’t seem mad. Roman pressed against the edge of the couch instinctively, either way, but tried to focus on the movie. He really did like The Princess Bride.

Thomas came out into the living room with 3 bowls of popcorn, handing one of the smaller ones to Roman and the other smaller one to Virgil, then settled down next to Patton with what was probably a shared bowl. It was considerate of Thomas to give him his own bowl so he could have his space. He was probably used to it from Virgil, but it was still considerate. Roman gave Thomas a grateful look and Thomas smiled in return and turned his head to watch the movie.

After maybe 20 minutes into the movie and careful attempts to breathe evenly, Roman was feeling a little better. He couldn’t stop himself from muttering his favourite lines under his breath, which got a funny look from Virgil, but otherwise didn’t seem to bother Thomas or Patton any further, which was soothing. Thomas was so into the movie that Roman wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped up and acted it out. Roman would probably join him, too. As dorky as it would be, Roman would have fun. This family was full of dorks, anyway. Roman wouldn’t have taken Virgil as a book nerd, but talking about a book was literally the first social thing he suggested. Maybe he also read them for escapist reasons.

Roman mindlessly munched the popcorn while he got wrapped up in the movie and enjoyed the ride. It wasn’t the first family movie night he had been to, but it was probably the least eventful. There wasn’t arguing over the movie, fighting over popcorn, and he didn’t have to watch the other kids while he was doing it. There was something melancholy about that, though. Maybe Roman’s mood was just all over the place, or maybe he’d just rather feel useful instead of useless. Roman reached down into his bowl and came back with nothing, and looked bitterly down into the empty bowl. Roman set it down on the side table and pulled up one of his legs and leaned against the couch arm to watch the movie.

“So what are we feeling for dinner?” Thomas asked as the credits rolled on the screen.

‘The souls of the innocent,’ Virgil fingerspelled at Roman, who snickered.

‘A bagel,’ Roman fingerspelled back. Virgil silently laughed behind his hand.

“Was _any_ of that dinner suggestions?” Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” Roman chuckled.

‘Pasta,’ Virgil signed at Roman.

“Virgil votes pasta,” Roman said.

“Yeah, pasta! How about carbonara?” Patton suggested, looking excited. He must still want bacon. Virgil nodded.

“Alright, I’ll go start it. It’s quick to make so expect dinner soon,” Thomas said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. He felt like he should go help Thomas or something, but he didn’t just want to fuck up more. Virgil got up and headed back upstairs. Roman felt like too much of a lazy asshole for stairs and just opted to curl up on the couch with the afghan.

“How are you feelin’, kiddo? And no four-letter words,” Patton asked and turned off the TV.

“Great. Wonderful. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” Roman deadpanned, pulling out his phone. Patton huffed, looking dissatisfied with the answer. “Would you rather me say something quite atrocious?” Roman continued his Mary Poppins reference after watching Patton pout.

“No, of course not,” Patton frowned. Roman idly watched some recipe food porn videos with the sound off on the couch. He liked learning recipes, but mostly he enjoyed seeing what extremely ridiculous things people would make. He’d seen someone make a jalapeno popper, coat it in beef, bread it, and fry it again already. He had no idea who asked for that. But Virgil would probably eat it.

Roman chanced a glance at Patton, who seemed a little frustrated. Roman shrank a little away and balled up further on instinct. He sighed and went back to watching someone bread and fry lasagna slices like they were mozzarella sticks. Absolute madmen. If Roman ate more than 3 he’d probably get sick. Virgil would probably eat that, too. Roman got the impression Virgil was powered by a black hole, since he was as skinny as a tree branch and ate garbage. Roman could swear he could feel Patton’s stare burning his skin. His skin crawled, and he exhaled dispassionately.

“Did… you need me to do something?” Roman asked carefully, shifting to look at Patton.

“Is there a reason I’m missing that you don’t want to talk to us?” Patton asked, looking very hurt. Roman winced slightly.

“I don’t think there’s anything _to_ talk about,” Roman shrugged, trying not to look Patton in the face. He felt really guilty about whatever he did to earn the expression Patton was making.

“I- we think there is,” Patton insisted, crossing his arms loosely.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said automatically. “I’m _stupid_ and can’t see what the big deal is, I guess,” Roman said in frustration and leaned back against the couch. 

“You’re not stupid, kiddo, I just don’t think you have a very healthy view of the world,” Patton explained slowly.

“World’s terrible, trust no one, have fun before you die,” Roman offered. It was basically Roman’s motto. Ride the party bus and try not to get thrown under it is what Jet always said. Patton held up his finger and looked like he would say something. “My heart’s still beating, I’m indoors, and get to eat food. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing _great_ ,” Patton made an odd strangled noise. “Sorry?” Roman winced. He just couldn’t stop fucking up with him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Roman, it’s okay. I’ll… stop pushing it for now. But please know you can talk to either of us at any time, okay?” Patton said, still looking pretty upset. Roman swallowed and nodded. “Are you ready for going to a new school tomorrow?” Patton added after a moment with a weak smile.

“Um, sure. They’re all the same. Probably will need some folders or something, but I’ve got all the generic school supplies already,” Roman shrugged.

“Are you excited to make some new friends?” Patton smiled a little more genuinely this time.

“Sure, I guess. I like meeting new people. The school is in walking distance so it’d be pretty easy to hang out before or after school… that is if I’m allowed to?” Roman said, realizing he didn’t know the rules about that. They never sat him down and had a rules talk like other homes always did.

“Yes, of course! But be home by dinnertime unless we give you permission. We can talk about other things when they come up. Legal curfew around here is 9 PM for under 18, so you’ll need to be home by then if you’re out with friends. Are you interested in any extracurriculars?” Patton asked cheerily.

“I’ve never really looked into them,” Roman shrugged slightly. He’d never had a reason to.

“Well, track or cross-country might work for you! You have a nice singing voice, so maybe choir might be fun?” Patton suggested.

“You, uh, _heard_ me?” Roman flushed.

“That I did, champ! We sang Moana songs together in the kitchen. Well, I hummed it, but same difference. My singing voice is good for showers, cooing at dogs, and friendly karaoke, but I don’t have a lot of skill. Thomas can sing, though, he’s got a wonderful voice. He loves musical theatre and did productions in high school and college,” Patton smiled wistfully. “He actually still does community theatre when he’s not busy with a book,”

“Acting sounds fun, but I’m not smart enough to memorize lines or anything like that,” Roman mumbled.

“Roman, I’m sure you’re plenty smart and just aren’t giving yourself the credit. You know all the words and pitches to the Moana songs we sang. That’s not that far off,” Patton insisted.

“How so?” Roman asked incredulously.

“How is it not? That’s lines and delivery. I bet Thomas would be happy to run lines with you to help you memorize them just like learning the words to a song. Then you just add on expressing and moving from there,” Patton smiled. Roman shivered. He couldn’t ask Thomas to do all that for him.

“Uh, cross-country sounds kind of neat,” Roman rubbed the back of his head, trying to change the subject. “I think if I got to pick any athletic thing, it would be parkour,” Roman offered. He used to parkour. Kind of. It wasn’t exactly _recreational_. But he’d rather not think about that. He just knew he would have liked the running and jumping stuff parts if the circumstances were different. 

“Sorry, kiddo, they don’t do parkour at the high school. Virgil was also interested, so I checked. They deemed it too dangerous for kids. But there’s a parkour gym with classes for teens we could take you to?” Patton suggested brightly.

“ _Just_ me?” Roman asked warily.

“Well, it’s not in walking or biking distance. Virgil gets panic attacks when he gets into a car, so I can’t take him until he’s less afraid of cars,” Patton said, sounding disappointed. “We’d have to give him tranquilizers and obviously he can’t do much after that. We try to avoid anything with cars so we don’t have to put him through that,”

“Oh, that sucks,” Roman said. That has to be a nightmare for him. Very literally. Roman felt terrible for Virgil. There was so much stuff he was cut off from.

“I could still take you?” Patton suggested again.

“Um, no, I don’t think that’s fair to Virgil,” Roman grumbled. It really wasn’t. He also didn’t want Patton to spend any more money on him.

“Well, there’s a skate park within walking distance you could practice at. I’ve seen kids do it there in passing,” Patton smiled. “Virgil goes there sometimes with his skateboard. It would be great if you could keep an eye on each other. You’re both old enough to be on your own in a safe environment, but I can get worried,” Patton said, fiddling his thumbs.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” Roman said, a little awkwardly. At least they didn’t offer to buy him anything this time, and this suggestion didn’t require wasting time on him.

“Pat, will you get Virgil? Dinner’s just about ready,” Thomas called from the kitchen. Patton beamed at him and got off the couch and headed upstairs. Roman got up to go set the table for Thomas. The carbonara smelled amazing, and it smelled like Thomas also made garlic bread. He was going for seconds today, for sure. It smelled so good he thought he could finish it even if it hurt. 


	10. local trauma child is forced to remember that school exists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's first day at the new school.

Virgil took very long strides on the way to campus this morning. Roman was lucky he was quick because Virgil has long-ass legs. It was a few blocks away, not really a terrible walk. Roman hated being up this early, though. He and Virgil didn’t even sign to each other. Roman was pretty sure Virgil would also give anything right now to go back to bed, just based on his glower and the way he kept seeming to lose focus.

Roman wasn’t doing any better. Roman kept yawning and accidentally tripping on uneven parts of the sidewalk. Virgil didn’t even make fun of him. Roman hadn’t known him that long, but Virgil never missed an opportunity to until now. Mondays, maybe. Or just mornings. Roman wasn’t sure it mattered. Maybe Virgil was mad at having to show Roman the way to campus early. He didn’t seem to care when Thomas asked him to, though. But Roman didn’t have the best read on him. The parts of the night he managed to sleep he had his patented nightmares again, so it just a step above complete insomnia.

When they got to campus, Virgil quickly veered off down a hall without waving bye as Roman headed to the front office. The exhausted-looking administrative personal looked up when he stepped in.

“Um, Roman Reinhart?” Roman said warily.

“On the right, first door on the left. Councilor's office,” She said, pointing behind her to the hall on the right, not looking away from her computer screen. Roman nodded and shuffled quickly down the hall, peeking through the cracked open door.

“Oh, Mr. Reinhart?” The man at the desk asked. Roman nodded and stepped in. “Alright, we’ve just put you in the core classes that we had spots left in based on the transcript from your last school. You just have to pick your electives. You can keep taking art if you like, there’s room in the class. This school doesn’t have Latin, so you can’t keep taking that one. There’s no room in Spanish II this semester year, but you can take it next year. You only need two language credits to graduate. Colleges like a balanced transcript, so trying something new wouldn’t be a bad idea. Pick two,” The councilor handed Roman a piece of paper with the remaining available electives. Roman just stared at them, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what he was interested in and he wasn’t even sure he’d be here long. Roman looked up at the counselor, looking at him expectantly and somewhat annoyed.

“Um, yeah, art, and uh, choir?” Roman said, picking the first thing that came to mind before the councilor got mad at him. The councilor took back the sheet and typed at his computer in silence while Roman sat there awkwardly. He probably thought of choir because of what Patton said. Maybe if Roman signed up for the stuff Patton wanted him to, he could… that was probably too much to hope. It was just a gut decision. But he could give it a shot. At least he could know if he liked choir or not before they kicked him out. It’s not like he was doing stellar in Latin. “Uh, I’d like to do cross-country, maybe? I’m sure I missed tryouts. How would I join?” Roman asked tentatively.

“Ask the PE teacher after class. You’ve got PE just before lunch, so you should have plenty of time to get it sorted out,” He said, continuing to work on his computer. After a few more uncomfortable moments, the ancient printer finally spewed out a class schedule.

“Here you go, kid. Maps and school calendar are on the wall in the front office. You’ve got about a couple minutes until the first warning bell goes off, so try to familiarize yourself with the map. You’ve got 8 minutes between classes to get where you need to go. Here’s your locker assignment. There’s no room in the sophomore locker hall so you’re with the junior lockers on the second floor,” He handed Roman a little slip of paper with a combination on it and the locker number.

“The teachers should already know to expect you, except for in art and choir. If you just ask them your seating assignment before the bell goes off and you should be golden,” Roman nodded and stepped back out of the office to grab the map off the wall and start trying to navigate this monster of a school.

— ✪ —

Roman sighed and picked at his school lunch as he sat alone at the edge of the cafeteria. He’d met some nice people in his morning English class, but they didn’t share his lunch period. Roman wouldn’t mind eating alone so much if it didn’t look like he was literally the only person doing it. He’d done this a million times before, so he knew he’d eventually find a friend group to tolerate him. But the first few weeks always sucked. And the food sucks. This breadtangle of pizza was soggy and gross, and what even was on these green beans? Why were they slimy? The texture of everything was pretty disgusting. He’ll need to ask Virgil what’s edible here before lunch tomorrow.

The PE teacher told Roman to come after school to practice to try out, and Roman kind of looked forward to that. They didn’t meet every day and the PE teacher said anyone who could run under an eight-minute mile could join. Roman had never timed himself before, but he was pretty certain he could do that. It would be nice to do something he was okay at for a change instead of always fucking up. He was still nervous about choir later this afternoon, but he knew he could run. You don’t have to try out for choir or anything, but he still didn’t want to find out he was a bad singer. It was probably a poor decision. Stupid impulsiveness.

Roman’s stomach turned as he forced down the food. It was vile, completely, and the texture was a nightmare that made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t throw it out and waste food. He still had some free time before the next bell, so he went to go sit outside. He needed some fresh air for the nausea from lunch. The cafeteria was really loud, and it was wearing on him, too. Roman sat back under a tree in some weird wood chip garden and took a deep breath of the autumn air. It was at least a good thing it wasn’t too far into the semester so he could catch up easier. But he will have an unbearable amount of homework this week. Roman leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to get a brief rest before lunch was over.

— ✪ —

Roman stretched out nervously. He was in kind of tight jeans and not exactly prepared for this, but he was just supposed to run with the others, keep in his lane, and clear 8 minutes, and then the PE teacher would make her decision. The regular-track kids were also here, and they were staggering start times to share the space. Roman watched football practice on the field while the track kids started off. He took a deep breath and joined the cross-country kids as the starting lines, waiting for the teacher’s whistle to take off.

Roman started running at the whistle, and some kids took off much faster than him, but Roman didn’t want to tear these pants. They were possibly just trying to show off, because they slowed down as the group turned the corner, and Roman pulled ahead with a smirk. He got a glower from one of the ones he passed, but the other held up his thumbs and looked pretty excited. As he turned the final corner, Roman ran faster to try to make sure he stayed under 8 minutes. Another two kids beat him to the finish line, but the exact middle of the pack was a good sign.

“Roman! 5:48!” The PE teacher called, walking up to him while he caught his breath at the edge of the track.

“What, really?” Roman smiled. He probably could keep going, too.

“You’re welcome to join if you’d like,” She said, sounding excited. “That’s an impressive time for a newbie,”

“I, yeah, yes,” Roman stammered.

“Well, go ahead and queue up with the same pack to run it again slower, and come to my office after practice so we can get the paperwork. You need parents’ permission to join so I’ll need you to bring back a signed form. You can drop it off during PE tomorrow or the next meet on Wednesday,” She said and Roman nodded excitedly and walked over with the pack.

“Hey, congratulations, dude!” One of them smiled. “I’m Toby,” He drank some water. Roman didn’t have the forethought to bring water out and felt like a thirsty idiot.

“Roman,” He smiled brightly.

“You’ve got pretty good form, did you run at another school?” Another boy asked. “Seth’s the name,”

“No, just a, uh, hobbyist,” Roman said as dismissively as he could manage.

“I can tell from the fact you’re wearing _jeans_ ,” Another boy scoffed.

“I didn’t expect to be able to try out as soon as I asked,” Roman rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should worry how fast I’d go with _practice_ ,” Roman smirked. Seth and Toby laughed.

“Yeah, chill out, Nolan. Roman’s new,” Toby said, patting him on the back.

“Ugh, _whatever_ ,” Nolan rolled his eyes and started stretching out again.

“That’s Augustine, call her Aggie or she’ll tackle you. The last one is Julie. She thinks she’s better than all of us so don’t bother talking to her,” Seth, Toby, and Aggie laughed and Julie scoffed.

“I _am_ better than all of you,” Julie flipped him off quickly and went back to stretching.

“So why’d you pick cross-country over track?” Seth asked.

“Tracks get boring. I’m an urban runner if anything,” Roman shrugged.

“Same. We practice on a track pretty often and I get sick of it quick. Other than running around campus, they bus us out to a hiking trail or send us back to the obstacle course sometimes, unlike track, though,” Seth shrugged.

“An obstacle course?” Roman’s face lit up.

“Yeah, dude, it’s pretty cool. It’s splinter city, but it’s a pretty big course. Some other schools in the district even come out here to use it,” Seth smiled.

“We have a friendly competition about obstacle course times if you’re interested,” Nolan smirked mischievously.

“He’s literally never run it before, it’s not fair to him,” Toby rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m interested,” Roman said, eying Nolan suspiciously.

“It’s nothing major. Loser accepts any dare the winner chooses,” Nolan said with a small shrug.

“Shit, dude, that’s fine by me,” Roman laughed. He’d probably do any dare he was given anyway, he had shit impulse control and was very aware of that fact.

“Cool,” Toby laughed, and they walked to the track to wait for their start again.

— ✪ —

Roman’s mouth was dry as hell by the time he got back to Thomas and Patton’s house. He chugged some very metallic water from the fountain after practice, but he had that whole paperwork thing, and then jogging back defeated him. Lita barked excitedly as Roman came in. Roman bent down to scratch her head and made a bee-line to the kitchen to chug some water.

“Roman? Is that you?” Thomas called.

“Mm-hmm,” Roman grunted between gulps of water.

“I was surprised not to see you come in with Virgil,” Thomas said, walking into the kitchen.

“Patton told me I should try out for cross-country or something,” Roman said, pouring another cup of water.

“Oh, did you?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Roman breathed. “I don’t want to bother you or anything but there’s stupid stuff to sign so I can join,” Roman kicked his foot lightly into the tile.

“Oh, you passed the tryouts?” Thomas beamed. “Congratulations! I’m happy to sign a permission slip. Oh, we should probably get you some running gear. Did you really run in those jeans? I’m surprised they didn’t rip,” Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

“It was kind of a last-minute decision,” Roman huffed. “I don’t need anything,” Roman rubbed his arm awkwardly.

“Roman, half your clothes _barely fit_ you from what I’ve seen,” Thomas said critically.

“I had a growth spurt at 14 and I probably will again soon,” Roman said dismissively, backing up a bit.

“That doesn’t mean we have to wait until your clothes don’t fit at all,” Thomas frowned. “Virgil, back me up here,” He asked Virgil as he walked past them to the fridge.

‘About what?’ Virgil signed. ‘That Roman is an idiot?’ Roman rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think he was listening,” Roman took another drink of water.

“That Roman doesn’t need to wear clothes until he explodes out of them like the hulk,” Thomas said emphatically.

‘That’d be cool to see, can you do that?’ Virgil signed, and Roman laughed.

“He’s not backing me up, is he?” Thomas huffed. Virgil saluted them and left the kitchen with a drink and chewing on something from the fridge.

“I think he’s on his own team,” Roman chuckled. “You just got me some clothes, it’s fine,”

“We got you two outfits worth, Roman, and if I knew most of your shirts were nearly see-through, I would have pushed for more,” Thomas frowned.

“I- I don’t…” Roman trailed off.

“You don’t what?” Thomas asked, leaning against the counter and looking at Roman in a way that just unnerved him.

“I didn’t… I don’t,” Roman stammered and drank his water nervously. He couldn’t say it. He left the kitchen. Thomas doesn’t want to hear it.

“Roman?” Thomas asked, following him. Roman headed upstairs and closed himself in his room. Thomas didn’t follow, luckily. Roman didn’t want to disappoint him again. He thought running would be free and just need to bother them one time. He didn’t realize the clothes were such a big deal. Roman leaned against the door and dropped his backpack on the floor next to him. He slightly pulled his hair as he ran his hands through it.

Roman slid down against the door and held his knees close to his chest. He didn’t have to join cross country. He could probably still back out. The sheet isn’t signed or anything. He wanted to make Patton happy, but Roman was used to being a disappointment. It was better than being a burden. Roman sighed and got up, picking up his backpack and dragging it to the desk. He had a shit-ton of homework to do and didn’t have time to mope.

— ✪ —

“Want to help us pick what to make for dinner?” Patton asked through the door after a quick knock. Roman rubbed his eyes, uncrossing them after looking up from his textbook.

“Too much homework. I’m fine with whatever,” Roman called back and glanced back down at his textbook. He fought the urge to just bash his head into it to try to force it into his brain physically.

“Maybe you should take a break, kiddo,” Patton replied. Roman managed to bite his tongue before he said he was fine again, but he did literally bite his tongue, and it kind of hurt. He held open his mouth and felt it pulse slightly, but it didn’t taste like it was bleeding. “Roman?”

“Ah bit mah tongue,” Roman tried to reply. “Sorree,”

“Is it bleeding?” Patton asked with concern through the door.

“Nah, jus’ hur’,” Roman said and took a big drink of water. “Is good,”

“Can I get you some ice water for it?” Patton asked.

“No, is already fadin’,” Roman said and took another drink.

“Okay. I’ll come to get you for dinner, then. Let us know if you need help with your homework,” Patton said.

“Kay,” Roman called back and rubbed his eyes again before getting back to catching up to the classwork. Why can’t teachers all use the same syllabus so Roman doesn’t have to do this all the time? Roman sighed. His eyes hurt from reading all this shit. Packets at least are the easiest way to do classwork and some of his teachers game him some. It’s like a scavenger hunt for answers in the textbook. What he wouldn’t give for some skittles right now, though. He was running out of steam. He was just going to finish this page and take a break. There was no way he could finish all this tonight, anyway.

Roman came down the stairs and waved awkwardly to Thomas as Roman passed his office. Thomas didn’t notice him, though. He headed into the kitchen, instead.

“Hey, are you okay if I take Lita on a quick run?” Roman said, pulling a water bottle out of the fridge.

“Go ahead, kiddo. Sounds like a nice break,” Patton said, stirring something savory smelling on the stove. Lita was wagging her tail brightly at Roman’s feet and made a very cute noise when Roman reached for the leash on the hook.

“Who’s a marvelous girl,” Roman cooed and scratched behind her ear before hooking up her leash. “See ya,” He waved to Patton before being nearly yanked out of the house by Lita.

Running in the cool evening air was much nicer than any other time of day. Lita was boisterously bolting as fast as Roman would let her go as usual. She stopped at the same stop sign and fire hydrant again. Dogs really were creatures of habit. Humans, too, probably. Roman kind of wished he had that kind of stability to get habits. He got a cute photo of her hopped up on a rock and barking at a squirrel up in the tree that threw something at her. She growled and Roman gave her leash a few gentle tugs and she jumped off and walked away from the squirrel angrily.

They settled back into a run after she was done fuming about the squirrel’s audacity. Which was very funny and lifted Roman’s mood a bit. The run helped clear his head, though not much. He probably should have thought to try running for fun instead of for work before. It was nicer than just working out in his room. Having a dog to run with was likely what made this nice, though. They turned the corner and Roman pushed himself to sprint as fast as possible to squeeze that last bit of run out of Lita. She raced excitedly up to the door, panting happily as she came inside. She trotted happily to the kitchen to get some water, and Roman followed.

“We’re back,” Roman said to Patton as he passed to the fridge for more cold water.

“Hey, there, kiddo! Did you have a nice run?” Patton smiled.

“Yeah, the weather is nice outside right now,” Roman said and enjoyed some water. “Check out this photo I got of Lita yelling at a squirrel for throwing an acorn or something at her,” Roman said and pulled up the photo on his phone.

“Oh!” Patton cooed. “She’s got such an angry little face!” Patton squatted down to pet Lita. “Did that mean old squirrel assault you?” He rubbed her head and neck between both hands and Lita wagged her tail in a wide arc and licked his hand. Patton got up to wash his hands with a smile. “Send me that, wouldja?”

“Oh, sure,” Roman shrugged and sent it to Patton, then washed his hands right after him. “Do you need any help with dinner?”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Patton shook his head and went back to cooking.

“Um, let me know if you do,” Roman mumbled and left the kitchen. He really didn’t want to go back to homework just yet. Dinner smelled good, and he was feeling lazy. Roman flopped down on the couch with the family laptop, opting for Minecraft. He probably didn’t have enough time to play the adventure game for long, but he could play creative mode for a bit.

Virgil came downstairs while Roman was working on his mansion behind a waterfall and leaned forward on the couch, watching Roman build as he laid across the couch with the laptop.

“You need the laptop or something?” Roman asked, trying to turn his head to see the answer. Virgil stuck his arm out to sign ‘no’ almost like a hand puppet. Roman shrugged and went back to placing the carpet pattern. Virgil stayed and watched, which was unexpected. Mostly because Virgil was willingly standing within three feet of Roman. He’d probably bolt if Roman made any sudden moves. Roman would, at least. Roman gave him a confused look, but he just shrugged in response. Virgil just watched quietly as Roman kept placing blocks. 

Roman was putting vines on some marble pillars when Patton interrupted him.

“Dinner’s ready,” Patton called from the kitchen. Roman saved and quit while Virgil headed into the kitchen. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Roman put the laptop back on the side table and went to go eat dinner. 


	11. over-tired child eats his lost marbles for breakfast, guardians are concerned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia is a bitch.

Mornings should be banned. Roman rubbed his eyes from the brutally oppressive light breaking through the curtains. The breakfast was good and all, but Roman would rather just go back to bed. He barely managed to sleep last night. His stupid brain just wouldn’t give him a break. Fuck up this, mistake that, horrible memory this, it was a nightmare. Though a nightmare would have been better because at least he’d be asleep. He sighed as he rolled to the other end of the bed to his alarm. He wished, more than anything, for some kind of magic time pausing power so he could just go back to bed. Nothing happened, of course, and Roman groaned as he flopped out of bed.

Everything was arduous. Getting, changed, brushing his teeth, even sitting at the breakfast table. Honestly, he was so tired he didn’t care if he ate at all. Roman folded his arms and laid his head down on the table while Thomas made breakfast. Is it possible to be done with a day before 8 am? He nearly went up and back to bed until Virgil came in, his all of his emo glory. How Virgil had the focus to do his makeup this early was beyond Roman.

“What’s got you down, kiddo?” Patton asked, popping a kiss on Thomas’s cheek before sitting down. Roman yawned widely, eyes watering and nearly unhinging his jaw before dropping his head back down. “Well, now I know you went to bed on time last night,” Patton commented and rubbed Roman’s back slightly. Roman flinched from the sudden contact but was even too tired to freak out any further. At least that was something. Roman yawned again and propped his chin upon his arms.

“I suck at sleeping. Wake me when it’s time to go,” Roman buried his face in his arms again.

“You’ve got to eat breakfast, though. It’s not healthy to skip it. And it smells so darn good, too!” Patton said cheerily. Roman lifted his head slightly and glared before dropping down again. Roman wanted to smell bedsheets. “I’m sorry, there, Virgil, I’m still learning the alphabet,” Patton said, sounding disappointed. Roman glanced up to see what Virgil was saying.

“Virgil suggests coffee,” Roman put his head back down.

“Well, we can’t do that. Studies show it impairs sleep in teenagers,” Patton offered. Roman looked up at Patton with a raised eyebrow.

“And that’s different from now, _how_?” Roman yawned again. If he got more than two hours last night, he’d eat his shoes. Patton froze, the finger he was holding up drooped, and he looked confused.

“We’re not giving you coffee,” Thomas said, sliding plates down on to the table. Eggs, sausage, toast. Roman groaned, closed his eyes. “Come on, Roman, eat it while it’s hot,” Thomas urged. Roman sighed and slowly lifted his head. He could only manage small bites of food, and it hurt going down. He already felt like he was starting to drift. Breakfast is dumb. Everything is dumb. Want bed.

“Thanks for breakfast, honey,” Patton smiled.

“Thanks,” Roman mumbled.

“Don’t you have a permission slip I need to sign, Roman?” Thomas asked. Fuck, he was too tired for this.

“Lost it,” Roman grumbled and ate a bite of toast. He probably actually did. He hadn’t checked for it.

“Already?” Thomas asked incredulously.

“I’ve got like sixteen pounds of paper worth of homework,” Roman groaned. He fought to keep his eyes open and stifle a yawn.

“How’s that going?” Patton asked brightly.

“Fine. Great. Whatever word doesn’t make you upset,” The yawn Roman stifled came back with a vengeance, breaking free from his struggle against sleep and nearly dropped his fork.

“Hmm. You didn’t have any caffeine after school, did you?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

“No. I would have wrestled a bear for some skittles to study with, but there were no skittles-toting-bears available,” Roman groaned.

“That’s a visual,” Patton chuckled.

“They wear rainbow capes and fight crime when they’re not dueling to the death with teenagers,” Roman said sleepily and picked at his food again.

“Oh no, why to the death?” Patton gasped.

“Violence for violence is the rule of the beasts,” Roman fought the urge to lay down in his eggs.

“What are you two talking about? I feel like I missed something,” Thomas said, confused.

“The brutal truth of how the man keeps teenagers from taking over the world by bribing them with skittles to fight bears,” Roman yawned and dropped his fork, giving up after dropping a bite of egg twice and just switching to munch on his toast.

“I think I’m starting to _re_ -think that coffee stance,” Thomas chuckled slightly, sounding concerned.

“Don’t give the bears the _beans_ , then they’ll take over the world instead, and who will stop the teenagers from their bloody upheaval?” Roman almost felt like he would pass out sitting up. Virgil knocked on the table and Roman looked at him wearily.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Virgil signed. It took Roman’s brain ages to process what he signed.

“We were talking about something?” Roman asked and blinked slowly. Virgil rolled his eyes and put some hot sauce on his eggs.

“You’re not used to waking up this early, huh, kiddo?” Patton smiled.

“I don’t wake up in the early,” Roman grumbled, finally finishing his toast. “Kids pour their own cereal. Double-check they have their bags. Sleep till bus. Sleep on bus. Sleep till bell. Sometimes sleep through homeroom,” Roman moaned.

“Um, bud, you aren’t with the Finley’s anymore,” Thomas said carefully.

“No shit?” Roman said. Patton looked affronted, but Roman wasn’t sure why. “Aw, well where am I gonna get money, now? Oh _no_ , who’s babysitting Jeffery? He’s such a cute kid and his parents always left me dinner. His mom made the best lasagna,” Roman mumbled a little deliriously.

“Watch your language, Roman. Let’s… let’s just get him some coffee,” Thomas said, sounding defeated, and got up from the table.

“Wait, where am I?” Roman groaned and tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes.

‘You’re a fucking idiot,’ Virgil signed.

“Addendum: Why is an e-boy roasting me?” Roman yawned painfully for an extended period. “Oh hey, Patton, when did you get here?” Patton looked kind of shocked.

“Let me guess, you have a way you take your coffee, Roman?” Thomas asked.

“One cream, two sugars. Why do you ask?” Roman rubbed his eyes.

“You take your coffee blacker than me, kiddo!” Patton said, sounding amused, though still looked concerned.

“Oh, thanks,” Roman mumbled when Thomas pushed a coffee mug in front of him. Smelling it woke Roman up enough to manage to eat again.

“This is a temporary solution in the dire situation that Roman may have actually fallen asleep in his eggs this morning,” Thomas said firmly. “An exception to the rule,”

“I would have done _what_ now?” Roman asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Drink the coffee, Roman,” Thomas sighed and motioned towards the cup.

“Oh! Neat, coffee,” Roman said and sipped at the hot coffee.

“I’ll pick up some melatonin or something,” Thomas said distractedly and sat back down to eat.

“This is good coffee,” Roman mumbled and blew gently on it before taking another sip. “It doesn’t taste like muddy batteries,” He mused and nodded with a satisfied smile.

“I don’t think coffee should taste like muddy batteries _at all_?” Patton said, looking and sounding baffled.

“I agree,” Roman continued nodding for a moment longer before he picked up the pace on his breakfast. Everyone just stared at him. “What?”

“Maybe you need to go to bed early today,” Thomas suggested.

“Hmm? Sure,” Roman said and pushed his plate out of the way, laying back down on the table. “Night,” Roman yawned.

“That’s… not what we meant, kiddo. Please drink the coffee,” Patton urged him.

“Ugh,” Roman slowly sat up and flopped back on his chair. “Make up your minds,”

‘How did you survive this far?’ Virgil signed with a confused expression.

“Sheer _spite_ ,” Roman grumbled and sipped his coffee, starting to feel like he could think again.

‘Same,’ Virgil signed back with a sage nod.

“Virgil, could you keep an eye on him on the way to school?” Thomas asked carefully.

‘I’m not his mom,’ Virgil signed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms after signing mother as sarcastically as possible.

“He’s only a year older than me and built like a long stick, what’s he supposed to do? Sign motivations or something?” Roman grunted. Virgil motioned to Roman with both arms and looked intensely at Thomas. Thomas held up his hands.

“Okay, point. It wasn’t fair to ask,” Thomas conceded. Virgil nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” Roman drawled and made some serious headway on his coffee. He was still tired as shit, and ready to pass out, but he was less mad about it. Maybe he could sleep through homeroom and lunch.

— ✪ —

Roman walked right into the couch and collapsed on it when he got back from school. He didn’t think he could make the stairs, honest to god, he wanted to just die here. He was so done. He closed his eyes, laying partially off the couch and just didn’t move. He’d give anything to fall asleep right now, but he just couldn’t. But he could lie here. That was like sleep, but more painful. It was close enough. His body wouldn’t let him do anything else, anyway.

“Um, Roman?” Thomas said, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder and shaking slightly. Roman’s body was too tired to even flinch.

“I will _fight_ you,” Roman grumbled into the couch.

“I think you should maybe sleep in a bed,” Thomas suggested, patting Roman’s shoulder.

“If I could sleep, I would. I am bad at it. I am here in limbo and I suffer eternally for my crimes against man,” Roman groaned and lifted his hands slightly off the couch to wave them dramatically.

“Do you need help up the stairs?” Thomas asked kindly, stepping back.

“I need a _gun_ and a _single bullet_ ,” Roman grumbled into the couch cushions.

“Woah, _Roman_ , that’s _not_ okay to joke about,” Thomas said firmly. Roman groaned and lifted himself slowly off the couch.

“Fine, I won’t _joke_ about it,” Roman rolled his eyes. Roman slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I’m going to grab a bite and go do my homework, okay? I promise I’ll move my backpack soon. I just got to eat something before I make the harrowing trek through the land of the stairs,” Thomas backed up further and looked concerned at Roman, but Roman shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to go eat some chips.

Roman leaned against the counter and stared into nothing while he munched on some potato chips. They were salt and vinegar, and the burning kind of helped him wake up. Like fight or flight, but with masochist chips. They were kind of growing on him. Virgil came into the kitchen with a brief salute and Roman handed over the bag and went to go look in the fridge for a protein. Virgil looked confused but shrugged and started munching chips. Roman shoved a slice of cheddar and some lunch meat in his mouth and poured himself some water to take upstairs to do homework.

Roman dropped his bag with a thud on the floor near the desk and dropped into the chair with a huff. He glared at his science textbook. Roman would rather study the science of how long it takes to burn a textbook, honestly. That was a chemical reaction. He didn’t care about subatomic processes in theory. In action, though, that would be interesting. Sublimation was cool to watch. That one experiment he saw a teacher do where the liquids kept changing colors was neat. Memorizing atomic numbers was stupid. He dutifully flipped open the textbook, anyway. He never learned from the lecture and had to catch up somehow.

— ✪ —

Roman glanced at the time. It had been two hours of endless fucking studying and homework already. His foot was tapping so much he might rocket off, so a run with Lita sounded nice. Roman threw a sheet of paper in his textbook to mark his line and got up. Roman headed downstairs with a sigh.

“Hey, Roman, how’s homework going?” Thomas asked as Roman passed his office.

“Oh? Hm, fine, I guess. Is it okay if I go for a run with Lita? My eyes were crossing more than usual,” Roman said, shuffling his feet.

“That’s fine. I was actually about to take her out myself. Are you sure you’re okay to run? You could barely move earlier,” Thomas asked, getting up from his desk.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roman mumbled. He was plenty awake now, just feeling restless.

“I’ll head out with you. I’ve been at that desk all day,” Thomas stretched slightly. “Lita,” Thomas called and Lita came bounding down the stairs excitedly after a moment. Roman headed to the kitchen to get a water bottle and Lita’s leash, tagged closely by the excited terrier. Lita danced around on the kitchen floor and Roman hooked her up as usual.

Thomas did a much better job of keeping up with Roman than Patton did, but Roman and Lita left him in the dust for the first sprint. When Lita slowed down for the hydrant Thomas caught up, though it seemed to be an effort for him.

“You doing all right, Thomas?” Roman asked as Thomas ran up to him and gasped for a moment.

“You… are a speed demon, just like the dog,” Thomas said and downed some water.

“We aim to please,” Roman smirked. “You normally walk her, right?”

“Yeah. I work from home and need the excuse to get up from my desk or I’ll die of heart disease at 45,” Thomas said, wiping his head. “It’s a good thing you’re interested in cross-country. I think you’d do really well. Did you find the permission slip?”

“What?” Roman asked, looking confused at Thomas and stopping for Lita to do her business near a shrub.

“The permission slip for joining the club? You said you lost it in your homework pile,” Thomas clarified for Roman. Roman had forgotten about it. He still wasn’t going to join and be any more of a burden than he was.

“Oh, yeah. No, I didn’t find it. Mostly just learned about the noble gases and atomic interactions and stuff like that,” Roman shrugged and bagged Lita’s business. Lita happily started trotting along while Roman tied the baggy off.

“Just let me know when you find it,” Thomas smiled. Roman picked up with running again. Lita ran at a slower pace with Thomas nearby. This was probably their normal speed. Roman wanted to go a little faster, but probably just because he wanted to physically run away from this conversation. He didn’t want to get caught in a lie, even if he hadn’t technically told one.

“You mind if I pick up the pace a bit?” Roman asked, biting back the nervousness and trying to sound nonchalant.

“Go ahead,” Thomas nodded. Roman started running faster and Lita happily kept up and they pulled away from Thomas a bit. There was something extremely satisfying about running away from a conversation, actually. He probably shouldn’t make a habit out of it, but it was immediately relieving.

Roman turned the corner around the block while he ran along. Lita jolted forward slightly when she saw Patton’s car pulling up into the garage. Roman figured he may as well and pushed himself to keep up with the dog’s fevered excitement to see who is probably her favourite person again. They didn’t make it back before the garage closed, but Lita bolted and ran right into Patton in walking into the living room when they got inside.

“Oh, did my favourite girl go on a run with Roman?” Patton bent down and scratched behind her ear while unhooking the leash that Roman had just given up and dropped.

“And Thomas, he’s behind me. Lita sped up when she saw you pull in,” Roman panted.

“Aw, she missed me,” Patton cooed and Lita flopped on to her back and Patton gave her belly rubs. Roman sat on the couch and settled down a bit, closing his eyes and breathing. He knew he’d need to get up and get a water refill in a moment, otherwise, he’d just go upstairs and hide.

“I’ll refill your water, Roman,” Patton said, getting up from petting Lita. Roman just nodded silently and emptied the bottle before holding it up. Patton took it from his hands and went to the kitchen as Thomas came in.

“Oh, sweet air conditioning,” Thomas exhaled, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked right into the kitchen after Roman and Thomas share a brief wave.

“Oh! Thomas!” Patton chirped. Patton giggled right after that. Roman sighed and stared longingly at the TV. He wanted to watch TV or play video games or literally anything but going back to the homework pile. Patton came back out and held the water bottle over the couch for Roman to take. He grabbed it and got off the couch to go head into his room. Sadly, there was more homework to get to. Roman shot a last glance at the games before heading back to fight the evil homework villain, a pencil as his sword almost like Percy Jackson. God, he tried, but it still didn’t sound fun. He might actually rather fight a gorgon with a regular pen.

Roman sighed as he scanned the internet for a new study playlist. He picked one at random, but his headphones said the battery was low when he pressed play. Well, whatever. He could listen out loud while they charged. Nobody seemed to mind. Roman moved the sheet that marked where he left off and got back to it. His kingdom for a packet in science. This essay form homework was bullshit. What a sadistic teacher.

— ✪ —

Roman finished almost everything for the night when his alarm went off. There was still a small pile tomorrow, but it was much less daunting. He probably messed lots of it up, but at least it was done. And once he turned all this stuff in tomorrow, his backpack wouldn’t weigh 12 tons. He was so glad to be nearly caught up. All this shit was hard to remember and hard to read and just a nightmare. But if he did the work, at least he can say he tried. He had just enough time to take a shower and play something on his phone. Roman got up to pull out some pajamas.

“Time for bed, Roman,” Thomas knocked on the door.

“I’m getting in the shower now,” Roman said and opened the door to see Thomas standing there.

“Alright, bed right after,” Thomas said, looking like he meant it.

“ _Seriously_? I’ve been doing homework for like 3 hours straight, dude,” Roman groaned.

“You nearly fell asleep on your plate, Roman, you need more sleep,” Thomas said.

“I’m just going to lay there for _hours_ , can’t I at least read a chapter or something?” Roman sighed and rubbed his head.

“I grabbed you some melatonin this afternoon, we’ll try that tonight. I’ll be back with it in 20 minutes with it,” Thomas said, moving aside. Roman threw his arms in frustration and passed to the bathroom. He had a very large selection of choice words for Thomas, but he kept them in a safe place. Where he always did. Ranting in his head. Because he wasn’t looking to get his ass beat for talking back, regardless of the supposed safety here. The shower was the perfect place to fume, at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: chapter 12 has _events transpiring_ and this is your last chance to check the trigger tags before shit goes down.


	12. studies show 1 am is the perfect time for an existential crysis jog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very overtired Roman does not make the best life choices and generally has a _bad time_ ™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in end notes

Melatonin was bullshit and didn’t work in the least. Roman had tried it ages ago. It’s not like he didn’t have internet access. He could google home insomnia remedies. Melatonin, 5-HTP, valerian, kava kava, blah blah blah. Lavender, Milk and honey, Sleepytime tea, bloo bloo bloo. None of it worked. Roman always laid awake for hours. It’s not like he liked being stuck awake in bed. He definitely didn’t like wasting his hard-earned money on sleep remedies that don’t work. Kava kava was too damn expensive and it gave him stomach cramps and he was still mad at it. It’s not like he wasn’t trying. And he really was tired. His muscles were screaming for a break. He just wasn’t sleepy.

Roman glanced at the clock. It was a little rough to read in the shadows cast by the night light, but it looked like it was closing in at 1 AM. Roman was so fucking bored, and sick of being tortured by his head with regrets and memories. He shot a glance at his desk. He could probably keep a journal next to his bed and not get in trouble. If he angled himself the right way he could hide that he was drawing or writing even if someone entered the bedroom through blanket piles. He had enough money to buy a journal, but he could just use one of his old school ones if there was room. His sketchbook would be way too obvious that it’s not a dream journal or something.

He could use that by the nightlight or a little flashlight Roman had from an old home until midnight and try to sleep then. Roman hadn’t fallen asleep before midnight- not counting naps induced by soul-wrenching emotional bullshit- in years. Roman could remember watching the clock with Remus even before his mom died. It’s why they used to make up stories together. It would almost be like keeping the tradition alive. But it was already after midnight, and Roman was bored now. He tapped his fingers against the mattress and rolled over again. Roman wished he had a DS or something. Maybe one of those relaxing farming games one of his friends at his old school liked. That would be nice. The older one he could afford if he found a new job. He could ask them tomorrow if he was allowed to.

It still didn’t solve right now, of course. But thinking about things he could be doing was better than thinking about all the things he’d fucked up recently. And there were lots. All those times he pissed off Patton. He ran away from Thomas multiple times. Talked back. Was rude. Stayed up late. Slept in. Said stupid shit. Made multiple scenes in public. They bought him things he didn’t deserve. Not that he deserved any of this. He probably deserved a shitty home since he was a shitty kid. The Finley’s were right to kick him back. He probably wasn’t taking care of their kids well enough and doing a shit job of taking care of their house on top of being a general disappointment. They needed somebody better who could help them with their math homework and was more on task. The Sanders will see sense soon and kick him back, too. They all do. The Sanders deserve somebody nice and focused and impressive and gets good grades and stuff.

Not that he thought he could survive another… Jet situation. _Literally_. But there had to be a middle ground between the Sanders and the Halls. One where he didn’t get guns pulled on him but also didn’t have all these things he didn’t deserve around him, reminding him of how much of a failure he was and that he was a piece of shit. And how much all of it Roman wasn’t supposed to have. He didn’t earn any of it. Roman wasn’t supposed to be here. Roman’s breath hitched, and he rolled over again. He felt really trapped and got up out of bed, starting to pace the room and trying to breathe. There was even space to pace in here. Holy fucking shit, he didn’t deserve any of this. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Roman crossed his arms and rubbed them, his nails digging in, shuffling back and forth across the bedroom floor. He didn’t feel safe. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t leave though. _Could_ he? Roman shook his head and violently ruffled his hair as he paced. He could try to hide, wait this out, wait till he felt better. But he couldn’t sit still. He wanted to _run_. He wanted to run _so badly_. He didn’t deserve to be here, and it hurt so bad. He felt like screaming as he yanked his hands through his hair again. He paced fasted and shook the hairs out from between his fingers before bracing his arms tight again.

He had to _run_. Running helped before, right? And everything was screaming at him that he should run, that he fucked up and he needed to get out of there. Roman choked on his closing throat and paused in the middle of the bedroom, looking around again. He felt trapped in this room. It was so easy to block the door. Second-story window. They could find him in the closet. He had to go. He _had_ to go. He couldn’t _breathe_ in here. He had to _run_. Roman grabbed the door keys off the dresser and hurried down the stairs. He had to _go_. He _had_ to _leave_. Roman locked the front door behind him and bolted across the lawn and down the street. He didn’t know or care where he was going, he just knew he had to run. He had to get out of there and he had to run.

Roman panted as he bolted farther away, his vision blurring slightly down the dark streets. He dodged the street lights and kept his distance from fences, just like they taught him. It was easy. It was the only easy thing. He was pushing his luck not wearing all black, but he grew out of all that stuff. And he had to run. He didn’t have time to change. He had to go. He needed to keep going. Running made sense. Running was right. It hurt to breathe, but he could breathe out here, and he wasn’t trapped anymore. Roman kept running. His bare feet pounded, his lungs burned raw, and he kept running. Roman kept running until he couldn’t keep going anymore.

Roman’s throat burned and the sharp night air cut into him as he sprinted down the streets. _Hide._ He had to hide. He couldn’t keep going right now. He had to hide and take a break. He must have been far enough to be safe. He just needed somewhere easy to escape, to hide. Roman vaguely recognized the high school and headed that way, jumping the chain-link fence and headed over to the unlit bleachers. It would be dark and there would be crevices, but he could easily bolt from it if he had to. He sped towards them and ducked under the support bars, skidding to a stop and tucking himself under a low row where it was the darkest. Roman could barely make out his hand in front of his face. _Hidden_. Safe. He curled into a ball, and broke down quietly, sobbing into his pajama pants instantaneously.

— ✪ —

“ _Hey,_ what are you doing under there?” A voice called loudly and shook Roman awake. He looked up blearily from his legs and looked around for the source of the voice. “Come out, _right now_!” It shouted. Roman’s breath hitched from the loud noise waking him up. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep. He was crying for what felt like hours. Roman exhaled and crawled to his feet, holding his hands up as he ducked his way out from under the bleachers. “I asked you what you were doing here,” The police officer coming into view in the pale morning light reiterated.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Roman admitted quietly, still holding his hands up and stopping under the bleachers with enough height to stand but keeping a safe distance from the officer.

“ _Louder_ ,” He demanded.

“I just ended up here! I don’t know!” Roman said, louder and freaking out a bit. “I’m sorry!” The officer spoke quietly into his walkie.

“Show me your ID,” He ordered Roman.

“I don’t have any,” Roman replied quickly, his heart pounding and his hands starting to shake in the air.

“How _old_ are you, son?” He asked, pointing a blindingly bright flashlight into Roman’s face. Roman squinted his eyes and recoiled from the light, but kept his hands in the air.

“15. Am I f-free to go?” Roman stammered out. Jet taught him this stuff. He knew what to do. It didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“ _No_ , you are not. Turn out your pockets,” The officer demanded.

“I do not consent to a search,” Roman said as passively as he could manage, but his voice was shaking along with the rest of him. It hurt to from exhaustion hold up his arms like this, but just seeing the officer was enough to send him straight back into panic mode.

“Are you _hiding_ something, boy?” The police officer asked.

“No,” Roman croaked. He had nothing worth hiding. He just couldn’t be searched. He couldn’t. Even carrying nothing he couldn’t be searched. Roman’s heart pounded painfully in his throat while the officer stared him down.

“Step out from under the bleachers, _now_ ,” The officer said, stepping back. Roman complied, ducking under the support bar and stopping with his hands still in the air right as he walked out. The officer stepped forward and patted Roman down. Roman swallowed heavily and stayed still.

“What are _these_?” The officer asked, tapping on the lump in Roman’s pajama pants pocket.

“H-house keys, sir. Am I free t’go now?” Roman supplied, unable to shake the weakness and fear from his voice. His feet kind of burned and stung, but he couldn’t look down to check at them. He was too frightened of the cop to look away from him.

“No, you have violated curfew laws,” The police officer said, stepping back.

“The sun is up, s-sir, curfew is lifted at 5 AM. I h-have not,” Roman refuted him shakily.

“How do _you_ know so much about curfew law, boy?” He asked, shining that bright-ass flashlight right in his face again. It strained the hell out of his eyes and his eyebrows were so furrowed they hurt. He could almost feel every hair.

“It’s every citizen’s duty to know the local laws,” Roman parroted, swallowing heavily. It was easier when he had a script. His arms felt like bricks and they were so hard to hold up. It was so hard to breathe. It was so hard to keep standing.

“That it _is_ , boy. But you’re _still_ trespassing on school property,” The police officer said intensely. Roman recoiled slightly and coughed, trying to open back up his throat.

“Campus is open to students as soon as administration gets here. There are cars in the lot,” Roman supplied, glancing past the officer to the parking lot. He could do this, right? It had to be almost over. It had to be. He couldn’t take this much longer.

“You seem to know a _lot_ for somebody who doesn’t know why they’re here,” The officer said suspiciously.

“I was out for a run and wasn’t paying a-attention to where I was going. I was taking a b-break under the bleachers. Am I free to g-go?” Roman asked again after trying to explain himself. And it was the truth, as difficult as it was to spit out.

“Do you have an _ID_ for this school as a supposed student?” The officer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t bring my w-wallet for a r-run,” Roman replied. He actually didn’t have an ID yet, but he didn’t need to incriminate himself any further. The officer was clearly grasping at straws, and Roman just wanted to get out of here. The officer stepped back and talked into his walkie again, leaving Roman to stand there silently. His arms drooped slightly, but he kept them up, powered purely by adrenaline at this point.

“What’s your name, _boy_?” He asked after a few moments of talking to the quiet walkie strapped to him. Roman was close enough to hear the garbled noises coming from it, but his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he couldn’t make anything out.

“Roman Reinhart,” Roman responded, shaking. This couldn’t be good. Roman swallowed thickly again and tried to stop shaking so obviously. He wasn’t sure it was actually possible with all the adrenaline pumping through him. He’d probably be shaking for days. If he had eaten or drank anything in the past 10 hours he would have thrown up already. The officer talked more into his walkie. Roman’s throat tightened even worse as he waited patiently for the cop’s permission to leave. He just wanted to run. He wanted to run so badly, even worse than before.

“Your parents are looking for you. Seems you didn’t _tell_ ‘em you went out for a run, _huh_?” The police officer said angrily and put away his flashlight. Holy fucking shit. They were awake? It was too early for them to be awake, right? Oh god, oh god, _oh god_ \- “You’re coming with me to the station so they can pick you up,” The officer demanded. No! No, No!

“I can walk home sir, it’s only a few blocks away,” Roman objected, feeling like his knees were about to give out. He could feel the cold sweat dampening his back and he just couldn’t breathe deep enough.

“That’s not how this is playing out, _boy_ , follow me,” The officer ordered harshly and Roman’s head swam and there were spots in his eyes. No, no, he can’t go with the cops. He can’t go with the cops. He’d be in so much trouble. It was the most important rule. He needed to run. He can’t move, his legs won’t work. Why won’t they work? Why couldn’t he feel his legs? Roman barely registered as his vision dropped to the ground and he gasped for air. He can’t go, he can’t, he needs to run, he’s got to get out of here go go _go go go_ \- Roman’s vision faded and he watched a pair of work boots come up to him. He couldn’t hear anything other than the screaming objections in his own head. Things went black.

— ✪ —

Roman’s eyes opened, and the room spun. He heaved for a moment and tried to blink some sense into himself. He wasn’t sure what was going on or why everything was so distant. His ears were ringing, and his vision was completely blurred. Something felt hard underneath him. Did he fall asleep in the closet again? He rubbed his eyes to try to get his vision back. Everything was still blurry. He looked around and was blinded by fluorescent lights and saw men in uniforms and his breath immediately hitched. He was arrested. He was caught. Jet was going to kill him if his foster parents didn’t first. He was going to go to jail. He was going to get way worse in jail than the Halls would do to him. This couldn’t be happening. Roman choked and gasped in panic.

“Holy shit, holy _fucking_ shit, no _no no_ -” Roman started to ramble objections incoherently and curled into himself. An officer turned to look at him on the floor and Roman grasped his own head tightly in a panic, not sure what to do. He had to get out of here. He was already caught! They already knew! He had to go. He was trapped in here! Roman’s heart pounded like it was trying to explode. No, no, no no-

“No, _No_!” Roman screamed and balled into himself as tight as he could and tried to breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, this was it, he was going to die, thank god, he couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t, he couldn’t breathe. His blood was on fire. His heart was pounding violently, thudding everywhere he had veins. He was caught, he could feel his blood running, everything hurt so much. The police had him. He couldn’t breathe. Roman’s throat closed in on itself and he gasped for air and his lungs and eyes burned like there was wasp venom in them and it was all over. He was so tired. He couldn’t take it anymore. He squeezed himself as tight as his burning limbs would let him as his vision crossed and things went black again. Finally.

— ✪ —

Fucking shit, everything hurt so bad. Damnit, he wasn’t supposed to get _hit_ by the party bus, but he fucking was. There was an odd beeping. Does hell have incessant beeping? That seems pretty tame. It was really annoying though. It’d probably wear on him pretty quick with how loud it was. Roman groaned and tried to open his eyes, but it was just so fucking bright. Everything glowed a burning orange-red, even behind his closed eyelids. This was definitely hell. Huh. The Miller’s were right. If he saw Jack Miller here, he’d still fucking clock him, though. He’d show them fucking devil child. Maybe he could come back as an actual demon and haunt their asses for trying to ‘save’ him. Roman tried to raise his arm to cover his eyes, but it was so heavy that it took some genuine effort. He covered his eyes, but it was just still so bright. How was everything so bright? An arm should be thick enough. What was in his arm? It was cold.

“Roman?” A hopeful voice asked. What the fuck? That can’t be right. This was hell. What’s with the nice in hell? “Roman, are you awake?” A kind voice asked, and there was a loud shuffling noise. God, they were too loud. Was he being punished by somebody who pretended to be nice? Because that’s really sick, Satan. No wonder god banished him. Roman tried to hide from the light again but there was no angle his arm could take to save him, especially with that thing in it. And that beeping! Why was it so loud?

“Brightness and beeping are really fucking weird torture methods, dude,” Roman groaned, feeling his head pound from his own words. “The pain makes sense, but I was told there’d be boiling blood and shit,” Roman grumbled.

“Roman, what are you talking about?” The kind voice asked, sounding confused. That was clearly a trap. Devils don’t act nice or confused unless they were fooling someone.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not tricking _me_ into no bullshit, satan,” Roman grumbled, slowly curling his finger to flip him off.

“Hello, good to see you awake!” Another voice chirped, and it was so loud Roman flinched, and god that hurt worse than before. Holy shit.

“Go _away_ , loud she-demon,” Roman grunted and slowly flipped off in the noise’s direction with his other hand.

“Does he _normally_ act like that?” She asked, sounding concerned.

“No, he’s pretty quiet and polite, I think, other than a bit of attitude,” The kind guy said along with more loud shuffling. Ugh!

“Listen, the beeping is _plenty_ of torture, stop with the loudness already,” Roman hissed. The beeping really was wearing on him. He could swear he could feel it in his teeth. Props to lead torture designer or whatever. He regretted ever questioning the beeping’s validity as a torture method.

“I’m going to check your blood pressure,” She said. That’s a fucking weird thing to do.

“Fuck _off_ already,” Roman muttered. She lifted his arm, and he wasn’t quite capable of doing much other than mildly failing, and she wrapped something around his upper arm.

“Sit still, Mr. Reinhart,” She said, holding his arm in place. Roman stopped fighting it. He was too damn tired. He was here forever anyway. The world had ended and all that, no coming back from hell.

“Hey, hell’s at the end of eternity, right? I don’t remember what I was running for Jet. He didn’t, like, get fucked over, did he?” Roman asked weakly. He hoped Jet was okay. If Roman was running something valuable, it would have been a colossal fucking problem for him.

“Do you think this is hell, Mr. Reinhart?” The voice asked as a ton of pressure built up on his upper arm. It pinched and stung.

“Yeah, it’s not like _I’d_ go to heaven, the shit I’ve done,” Roman chuckled slightly, trying to laugh off his guilt, but there was a sharp pain on his ribs. “Son of a _bitch_ ,” He hissed and tried to move to put his free arm over the spot, but even a little more light filtering through his eyelids burned and he couldn’t take it.

“Do you think you’re _dead_ , Roman?” The kind-sounding guy asked. What was with this? Was the confusion part of the torture? Was the nice tone? Devils are supposed to know about you and your sins.

“Thank god. Or whatever you’re supposed to say here. No, _fuck it_ , thank him. My foster parents would have fucking killed me for getting arrested in a much more painful method than my heart failing. I got my ass beat for taking an apple without asking, they’d fuck me up! And prison? I’m glad I was saved from all of that,” Roman grunted. There was a pause as the pressure on his arm released.

“Roman, how _old_ do you think you are?” The kind voice asked, sounding perplexed.

“13. Duh. They always say live fast and die young,” Roman said, trying to throw up the horns but giving up partway through.

“The police officers said he had a panic attack and passed out just before I got there,” The guy said.

“Man, how is anybody _supposed_ to react? It’s a first-degree felony. They would have tried me as an _adult_ , dude,” Roman grunted.

“What is a first-degree felony?” The guy asked.

“What am I, a _narc_?” Roman scoffed. The dude didn’t answer about Jet. Why should Roman say anything?

“His blood pressure is _elevated_ , but within an acceptable range, and he shouldn’t be dehydrated anymore. Does Roman suffer from mental health issues you didn’t mention on intake?” The lady asked.

“Not that we were _told_. We’d only had Roman for 6 days,” The guy sounded nervous. “He… has _implied_ concerning things, though,”

“Let me go get the doctor, Mr. Sanders,” The lady said.

“Boo, no doctor torture! What kind of _second-rate_ horror _B-Movie_ is this? Where’s the fuckin’ _scorpions_ and shit?” Roman jeered.

“Roman, do you know who I am?” The guy asked carefully.

“ _Satan_ ,” Roman said resolutely. “And I’m not opening my eyes to look at your devil dick or whatever. I’m a fucking minor, you filthy pervert,” Roman stuck out his tongue. Hell was weird. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Panic Attack, Feeling Trapped, Running Away, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Police, Attempted Wrongful Arrest, Blacking out, Age Regression, Mentions of Terrible Foster Guardians, Death Mention, Breathing Issues, ER/Hospital, Doctors, Hell Mentions, Torture Mentions, Abuse mentions, Suicidal Ideation.


	13. local trauma child faces the aftermath of his actions via concern for his well-being from parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is just,,,, so very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in end notes

“I’m not Satan. If I turn off the lights would you open your eyes?” The guy with the nice voice offered. It was strangely charitable for a demon. The beeping rang through Roman’s whole jaw and he could hear it in his bones somehow. Roman’s whole body hurt and honestly less light would be amazing, just as one less thing to deal with alone. But he didn’t understand where this was coming from.

“What?” Roman asked incredulously and the bright glowing light around his arm disappeared. Roman dropped his arm tiredly. That was weirdly nice for hell. Roman slowly opened his eyes. “ _God damn it_ , did I survive?” Roman groaned as he looked around the hospital room, a guy in jeans and a floral button-down standing near the door. “That’s not _fair_ ,” He moaned in frustration.

A woman stepped in from the hall, and Roman recoiled from the light. That was basically how his life went. One nice thing chased by two shitty things. Ah, normalcy at least.

“A migraine?” The lady in the white coat asked. “You were dehydrated, so that isn’t surprising. How did you end up so dehydrated, Roman?”

“I only just found out I’m not _dead_ , cut me some _slack_ ,” Roman frowned and turned his head away. She just hummed at him. Roman huffed through his nose with disdain.

“His charts look fine, and he can probably head home soon, once we get a urine sample and get the clean results we’re expecting. The nurse said he thought he was two years younger? Would you mind telling me again what happened before you couldn’t wake him up?” She asked.

“He had run away at night. The police said they found him at the high school stadium. He had passed out at the station just before we got there to pick him up, according to them,” The guy explained. Roman didn’t run away. What was he talking about? He must have been running for Jet, right? What did she mean, two years younger?

“Did he say why he ran away?” She asked. Roman watched them in confusion.

“No, he didn’t leave a note or take anything but his house key. We argued about his bedtime, but there was no reason I can think of that he would run. He hadn’t slept well the night before so I asked him to go to bed 30 minutes early. It was barely an argument. He seemed miffed but didn’t argue back much. He asked if he could stay up to read and then dropped it. I don’t really know,” The guy said.

“ _Who_ the fuck are _you_?” Roman asked, struggling to follow this conversation. His brain felt like a wet marshmallow.

“I’m your ER doctor, Dr. Veronica,” She said, looking to Roman.

“No, the dude who is claiming to know me,” Roman weakly pointed to the guy in the floral shirt.

“I’m Thomas Sanders, your foster father,” He claimed.

“My foster father is James Hall,” Roman retorted. “I have _no idea_ who this dude is,” Roman motioned again towards him.

“Please calm down and try to _rest_ , Mr. Reinhart,” The doctor lady said placatingly.

“Was he stressed about something in particular?” The Veronica one asked.

“Homework, maybe? Lack of sleep? He joked about wanting to kill himself, and that was concerning. We had asked before if he wanted to see a therapist and my spouse said he had an anxiety attack just bringing it up,” The Thomas guy shuffled and rubbed his arm awkwardly.

“Would you mind answering a few questions for me, Mr. Sanders? About Roman’s moods?” She asked and started tapping around on a tablet in a giant protector.

“I can try,” Thomas said, sounding unsure. Does he mean try to _guess_?

“Does he often have memory problems?” She asked. Why is she asking this freaking stranger when he was sitting right here?

“I don’t think so,” Thomas replied, still uncertain. Yeah, why would he know?

“How is his self-image?” She asked, not looking up from the tablet now.

“Not _great_ , I think, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet,” Thomas rubbed his arm.

“Does he seem interested in his hobbies?” Dr. Veronica continued on. Maybe she was working off on a list on the tablet? This was getting really annoying.

“He looks just as happy doing homework as he does playing video games. But he still seems to want to play them,” Thomas shrugged.

“I don’t appreciate you talking about me like I’m not here,” Roman interjected bitterly.

“You can chime in if you want, Mr. Reinhart. Just try to stay calm,” She said, sounding surprisingly soft despite his outburst. “Does he always act on guard?” Dr. Veronica asked another question.

“Yeah, all the time. He’s jumpy about loud noises and people touching him,” Thomas said, gesturing slightly.

“Who _isn’t_?” Roman shot angrily.

“So he’s also easily frightened, then?” Dr. Veronica added, clicking something else.

“ _Rude_ ,” Roman huffed. He was used to adults ignoring him, but this was kind of ridiculous.

“Yes, I’d say so,” Thomas said thoughtfully.

“Any trouble sleeping?” Dr. Veronica continued tapping on the tablet.

“Yes, that one is obvious. He nearly passed out in his breakfast this morning. He’s hard to wake up, in general,” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. Roman shifted uncomfortably. He wished they’d close the door to the hall to drop the light in here again.

“I don’t know how he knows that,” Roman rubbed his forehead and tried to drop the painful tension.

“How about difficulty concentrating?” Dr. Veronica asked.

“I think he probably concentrates too hard, if anything,” Thomas shook his head. Roman couldn’t concentrate for shit, so he had no idea where that answer came from.

“I _disagree_ ,” Roman scoffed.

“Any irritability or angry outbursts?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“My spouse said he’s seen some,” Thomas said, sounding uncertain.

“Expressed any feelings of guilt or shame?” She asked, continuing down her list. Yeah, but he couldn’t say it. Roman looked at them nervously, hoping they didn’t notice his weak spot. Thomas continued to look to the doctor, and she kept looking at the tablet and Roman was a little relieved.

“He had a panic attack when we bought him a phone, so I’d say very much. He was really guilty about us spending money on him,” Thomas nodded. This was moving from upsetting to kind of creepy. And threatening. This Thomas guy knew too much.

“Does he have any difficulty expressing emotions?” She nodded.

“No, not that I’ve seen,” Thomas shook her head. Maybe sometimes he did.

“Any trouble maintaining close relationships?” Dr. Veronica seemed a little confused.

“We haven’t had him that long, I don’t think he has any right now, honestly. He’d never mentioned friends or anything,” Thomas said. It was probably just Jet, honestly. They didn’t need to know any more about him, though.

“How about hopelessness?” Dr. Veronica nodded again. Roman felt like he was running on hope, but that’s another thing he couldn’t bring himself to say. Roman weakly gripped the light blanket draped over him.

“I told you he joked about wanting to kill himself, right? He was very _blase_ about the whole thing,” Thomas sounded frustrated.

“ _Right_ , right,” She stared at the tablet and clicked around more.

“Life’s hard, who wants to live it anyway?” Roman said flippantly and paused. Dr. Veronica asked nothing else, just kept tapping on her tablet. “Are we finally done with talk about Roman like he isn’t here time?” Roman asked defensively. He couldn’t let himself be confused and vulnerable any longer. “I’m not looking forward to going back to the Halls, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I’m legally supposed to be here without them knowing? Also, please tell me there’s financial aid, because I know I can’t afford a fucking ER visit,” Roman said angrily.

“Did the Halls make you pay for everything, Roman?” Thomas asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah, of course, they do. That’s how society works. That’s why I have a job,” Roman said dismissively.

“What do you do for your job?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Who cares?” Roman huffed, looking at the tube in his arm. “What’s in the bag?”

“Just some water, you were dehydrated when Thomas brought you in,” Dr. Veronica said. “Does he often deflect questions like that?” She asked.

“Patton said he changes the subject often when they talk,” Thomas provided and gestured with his hand.

“Patton’s a _liar_ , whoever they are,” Roman shot angrily.

“Roman, what do you think you got arrested for?” Thomas asked, sounding annoyed.

“I know my rights,” Roman hissed and shot a pissed look at Thomas.

“Try not to _upset_ him, Mr. Sanders,” Dr. Veronica scolded him. Finally. “I think he might be having a regressive episode from stress. I’m making up a referral for a psychiatrist for him,”

“I thought it had something to do with this,” Thomas said, sounding very concerned and motioning to Roman.

“I would have said _nothing_ in the first place if I had any idea I wasn’t _dead_ , I _assure_ you!” Roman glowered at them, but moving his face like that hurt his head and he couldn’t hold it for very long. He tried to breathe through the pain like he always did and gave up with emoting completely.

“Roman, how do you feel about the police?” Thomas asked Roman pointedly.

“Police are _bad_ , duh,” Roman huffed he would have crossed his arms if he had the energy, so he just rolled his head away from the light.

“So it’s fair to say that they stress you out a significant amount?” Dr. Veronica asked, sounding interested.

“I’ve had a _gun to my face_ , and that was less ‘ _stressful_ ’ than being in the police station, why do you think I thought _I died_? It felt like my heart fuckin’ _exploded_ ,” Roman grumbled, not moving much.

“What in _the world_ -” Thomas shot, but the doctor lady shook her head, and he stopped himself.

“I think it’s best to let him calm down to see if he comes back. It would be advisable to avoid any media with imagery of law enforcement in it for now. I’m glad we could find his trigger. But I’m not a mental health specialist. You can pick up the referral for a psychiatrist at the front desk. We don’t perform mental health here, we’re just trying to make sure he’s doesn’t need any other urgent care. Do you have to use the restroom, Roman?” The doctor explained. He didn’t entirely follow until she mentioned using the restroom.

“Uh, yeah,” Roman muttered. He really did, now that he was thinking about it.

“I’ll need a urine sample. My nurse will be right back to help you,” Dr. Veronica said with a brief nod and turned to leave the room.

“I don’t need help to use the restroom,” Roman grumbled.

“Is there something you’d like to do after they release you?” Thomas asked, walking closer to the bed.

“You’re not my freakin’ legal guardian, why would I go with _you_?” Roman asked. “Are you some kind of _pervert_ or something?” Roman accused blithely. Thomas looked shocked.

“ _No_! The doctors are talking to me because I am currently your legal guardian. You’re not at the Halls anymore. And that sounds like that is a good thing,” Thomas explained, sounding concerned. The other lady came back in. So she was a nurse and not a she-demon. Roman felt pretty fucking stupid right now. Of course he wasn’t dead. That would be _too easy_. Just some fun new way to embarrass himself.

“Do you need help to use the restroom, Mr. Reinhart? Do you feel safe walking? We’ve cleaned and bandaged the cuts on your feet, but some were deep it’s best to be careful walking on them for now,” The nurse lady asked.

“Sorry for calling you a she-demon, ma’am,” Roman muttered apologetically.

“It’s all right, I thought it was pretty _funny_ , honestly. Let me help you out of bed and you can tell me how safe you feel about walking lightly,” She offered. Roman nodded, and the nurse reached over to disconnect the tube from the needle in his arm. She helped Roman reposition himself on the bed and carefully helped him up. He was very shaky on his feet and everything hurt like hell, but he felt okay enough.

“I’ll be okay,” Roman said. The nurse led him to the bathroom doorway, anyway. She handed him a cup with a lid and his name on a label. Roman’s first step into the bathroom without her was wobbly, but he was all right after that. He handed over the filled cup, feeling pretty embarrassed about it, and she took it down the hall after helping him back into the room. Roman sat back down on the bed and eyeballed Thomas.

“What time is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s around 10 o’clock,” Thomas offered, glancing at his phone. Roman didn’t recognize the model, so it must be nice. Maybe the guy was rich. Roman briefly considered pinching his wallet, but still hated the idea. Wait, 10 am?

“ _Shit_ , what about _school_?” Roman asked, starting to panic.

“We’ve called you out sick already, don’t worry about it,” Thomas said, motioning with his hands to calm down. “We can’t leave until they get all your test results back, anyway,” Thomas added, sitting down on some chairs near the bed. “Are you hungry? We could go out for lunch,” Roman patted his pants to check the contents, feeling out of it.

“I, uh, don’t have my wallet,” Roman said sheepishly. He looked down, realizing he wasn’t in all black like he would have been if he were running for Jet. Shit, were they not lying to him? Roman grabbed his chest and took a sharp breath, his eyes shooting around the room again.

“Roman, hey, hey, calm down. You don’t have to pay for lunch. We don’t have to go out to eat at all,” Thomas said, getting up and getting closer to him. Roman shifted suddenly back into the bed, hitting the rails on the other side of the hospital bed and hissing slightly in pain. He clenched his fists tightly around the pajama pant material and tried to breathe.

“Am… am I really not with the Hall’s anymore?” Roman whispered, looking desperately up at Thomas.

“You’re really not at the Hall’s anymore,” Thomas nodded. “Um, did you want to see a video of our dog trying to attack her own shadow?” Thomas offered, holding up his phone with a video paused of a brown and white dog looking absolutely pissed at the floor. Roman nodded, interested in anything other than trying not to freak out any further. He was in a hospital and if he had a fit right now it would be bad. Thomas handed over the phone and tapped the screen, and the sounds of a dog barking and growling at its shadow on the floor started playing. When the video stopped, Thomas flipped to the next one. The dog was chasing its tail in the grass while Roman’s breathing settled down. Roman watched a few more videos of dog antics quietly.

“Are you feeling any better?” Thomas asked after the 5th or so video. Roman nodded slightly and moved to lay back on the hospital bed. He was really, excessively exhausted. He yanked the blanket back up higher and Thomas moved to sit back down on the chairs again. Roman closed his eyes and exhaled. If he was lucky, he could just sleep instead of letting himself focus on any of this awfulness. He started to curl up on his side, but the pressure on his ribs really hurt, so he shifted to ball up some blanket to hold and tried to sleep like that instead.

— ✪ —

“Hey, Roman, we need to clear out of here,” Thomas said, surprisingly close to Roman’s face. Roman’s breath hitched as he opened his eyes suddenly from the close voice. “It’s okay, it’s just me, I’ll give you your space,” Thomas said, backing up slightly. “Your tests came back clear and they need the bed,” Roman rubbed his eyes and nodded. Why the fuck was he in the hospital? Ugh, the smell alone was enough for bad memories to come flooding back. Roman noticed the needle in his arm and tried to remember what happened, but his brain felt really fuzzy and he was just so tired. At least he was already getting out of here. He hated hospitals. The less time in them, the better.

“Let me get that out of you,” The nurse smiled and took Roman’s arm. She undid the tape and carefully slid out the needle. It felt incredibly wrong. She pressed a cotton ball to the puncture and guided Roman’s hand to apply pressure to it. She wrapped it up and gave him a small smile. “Remember to keep the feet elevated, clean, and dry while they’re healing,” She gave a small wave before leaving the room.

He tried to roll over to get off the bed since there were rails in the way on the other side, and he inhaled sharply when he landed on his other side. Everything hurt, but that one really took the cake. What the fuck was up with his ribs? Roman shifted to sit up carefully. He pulled up his shirt to check if he could see anything wrong, and there was a pale greenish mark on his side.

“ _Jesus_ , where did this come from?” Roman exclaimed quietly, inspecting the bruise. Thomas turned to look, and then quickly leaned out into the hall.

“Excuse me, Dr. Veronica?” He called, waving into the hall.

“How can I help, Mr. Sanders?” She asked, walking back into the room.

“Roman has a bad large bruise over his ribs he doesn’t remember getting, would you mind checking it? It looks really bad.” Thomas asked, pointing to Roman who still had his shirt up, trying to figure out what happened.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to touch it,” She said, hovering her hand over the spot. Roman nodded, and his breath hitched on contact. It really hurt like a bitch. “Would you take a deep breath for me, Roman?” Roman nodded and started inhaling. “Fill your lungs completely and hold it,” She instructed. It hurt too much and Roman flinched, having to stop.

“Sorry,” He muttered.

“Would you say it hurts to breathe?” She asked.

“Kinda,” Roman said, his face scrunching up when she started touching around it again.

“Nothing feels broken, and ‘kinda’ hurts means it’s likely not badly fractured. I’ll send you an ice pack for it, and if it continues to be concerning tomorrow, schedule an appointment for an x-ray. You can grab the ice pack the front desk,” She said, heading back out of the room. Roman sighed and dropped his shirt. He’s done some dumb shit in his day but he hadn’t gotten a bruise like this in a long time. At least not without getting his ass beat, anyway. It was actually pretty familiar looking. Thomas rolled a wheelchair up to the bed and motioned for him to get on.

Roman got up, slightly unsteady, and sat in the wheelchair. He was in a hospital and didn’t feel like questioning why he needed a wheelchair. His feet did hurt like shit. Roman looked down at them. The hospital booties were weird. Thomas pushed him out of the hospital room and down the hall. He wasn’t completely sure how he got here, but he vaguely remembered small parts of it before he fell asleep. He was still extremely drowsy and struggling to concentrate. He must have done something amazingly dumb. It hurt his head to try to remember, so Roman just gave up. His head was already killing him. They passed a nurse in the hall who handed him an ice pack out of nowhere before exiting to the lobby, and Roman pressed it gently to his bruise. They were efficient here.

Thomas stopped off at the front desk before pushing Roman outside. He stopped the wheelchair and waved before jogging off into the parking lot to go get his car, probably. Roman waited numbly. He didn’t know what was going on and wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Being in a hospital was awful enough without all the pain. If he wasn’t so numb he’d probably be relieved he couldn’t think straight or feel much since at least he wasn’t freaking out about being here that badly. Just awful flashes of memories to fight off. Thomas’s car pulled up, and he got out and jogged around to push Roman up and help him into the car before Roman could pull himself up. He sat in the idling car while Thomas pushed the wheelchair back inside, waiting for Thomas to return. He was so fucking tired. Thomas came back with a little smile and started driving away. They drove in silence for a while. Roman had no idea what to say. Or if he should say anything.

“Are you doing okay, Roman?” Thomas asked after a bit while they waited at a red light.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbled. “I don’t know what happened, but I must have f- _messed_ up really, _really_ bad to end up in a _hospital_ ,” Roman said, feeling just as empty. He laid motionless against the seat and watched the road.

“I can’t say I’m entirely sure what happened, either, but you don’t have to be sorry. Do you remember me now?” Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

“Huh?” Roman looked oddly at Thomas.

“Do you remember me and Patton and Virgil?” Thomas asked again.

“… Yeah?” Roman rolled his head to face Thomas. “Should I _not_?”

“No, no, it’s good. Would you rather go out to eat or eat at home?” Thomas asked. Roman was too tired to cook, honestly. He couldn’t even imagine standing up for more than 2 minutes right now.

“Which one lets me go back to bed faster?” Roman asked blankly. He was ready to pass out this instant.

“I’ll get you some drive-through and you can go back to bed as soon as you get home if you like,” Thomas offered.

“Whatever,” Roman closed his eyes.

“Is there anything you want?” Thomas asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I literally could not care less if I even _ate_ ,” Roman sighed. He was feeling a little dizzy instead of nothing now. He wanted the _nothing_ back.

“You asked for tacos before, does a burrito or something sound good?” Thomas suggested, sounding hopeful. Roman was too tired to think straight, much less eat.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Roman said dismissively. He was getting even dizzier now. Ugh. Make it stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 Warnings:  
> Hospital, Doctors, Examination, Suicidal Ideation, Referenced Child Abuse, Referenced Child Endangerment, Age Regression, Gun mentions, Bad Self-Image, Anxiety Attack, Bruises  
> bad suicidal ideation in the second paragraph


	14. breaking news! local foster child is deeply traumatized!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman regrets 100% of everything ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in end notes

Roman slowly blinked when he woke up again. It was dim in here and a pleasant temperature. There were soft windy trees and cricket noises playing. Despite the soreness in his _everything_ , it was a pleasant way to wake up. He yawned and blinked the sleep away from his eyes again to try to focus them. He was laying in his own bed at the Sanders’ house, which he was incredibly thankful for. Somebody must have closed the curtains for him and put on the noisemaker app. Probably Thomas. He didn’t remember getting back to the Sanders’ house at all, which meant he either blacked out again or fell asleep. It also meant Thomas managed to carry him up the stairs while he was out. Roman knew he didn’t weigh too much, but honestly, he was still a little impressed. He used to have to carry little kids up the stairs to bed all the time and it was hard to balance.

A glass of water was also left out on his nightstand, which he drank its entirety as soon as he realized it was there. Everything still hurt and he was still tired, but he was awake enough to feel kind of gross. Kind of very extremely gross. He wanted to go take a hot shower. Hopefully, he was still allowed to. He couldn’t be sure since he’d never been punished by them before. Roman couldn’t figure out where the line was, but there’s no way he wasn’t grounded until they kicked him out on Friday. If he was already in trouble, he was already in trouble. He could at least sneak one shower before they had a chance to tell him he couldn’t take a hot one or ban him from the shower altogether.

He crept out of bed silently, very practiced at this. His feet hurt like shit when he put weight on them, but he couldn’t take being this filthy anymore. He couldn’t make the shower be silent, but nobody would know he was in there until he was already safely locked in the bathroom. He only had one house where they had a key to the bathroom door, and that was kind of a whole fucking deal that he had trouble picturing the Sanders doing. He may have fucked up, but they weren’t that fucked up even in this scenario. Roman shifted and moved silently across the hall to the restroom, locking himself in and turning on the showerhead to start the hot water.

Roman definitely deserved like seven ass-kickings for ending up at the hospital, though, and he wasn’t sure exactly how that was going to play out. Roman sat in the tub when it was hot enough and showered facing the back to try to keep his feet away from the water as much as he could. They were probably the one thing on him that was clean and Roman knew you had to keep bandaged things dry already, even if he was iffy on why they were bandaged at the moment. He was still half asleep and didn’t really care much about trying to remember something that involved him getting bandaged. Roman cleaned off slowly, and the hot water was amazing on his back.

What punishments would he get for his stupidity? No food? No showers? Not leaving his room? No electronics? Yard work at 6 AM? A super strict schedule? Tight rules? Yelling? Not leaving their room? Having to go for a run on these bandaged up feet? Nothing fun and he just has to sit there and do nothing? That one’s his least favourite. He’s really, really bad at sitting still and doing nothing. The punishments always got worse after that. Maybe Roman pushed their limits and they will hit him.

He didn’t want to think about that. Roman was the biggest fuck up in the universe if he could break two nice people like that. Maybe that’s why Virgil does asshole stuff. He’s looking for their limits. It is kind of scary not knowing their boundaries. There’s always some arbitrary line somewhere Roman couldn’t understand. Roman finished off his shower and got dressed in fresh pajamas. Some bandages on his feet were loosened in the shower, but bending forward hurt so much that he couldn’t imagine trying to fix them right now. He cracked open the bathroom door, and nobody was waiting there for him. Maybe Thomas didn’t hear the shower. Roman sneaked back across the hall and into his room, closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click.

It was late enough in the afternoon that Roman wasn’t tired anymore, so he needed to do find something quiet to do before he wasn’t allowed to do it anymore. Roman sat on his bed, getting off his feet and looked around the room. He certainly wasn’t doing his homework. If he was going to be banned from doing everything he’d be damned if the last thing he did was homework. Oh, god. He was going to have so much more homework after missing today. How did going for a run escalate so badly? It was just a run! Well, it wasn’t completely just a run. If he didn’t fall asleep under those bleachers and get- Oh god. Roman’s breath hitched with the realization.

Did- the cops caught him. The cops definitely caught him. Oh, he fucked up really, really bad if the cops got involved. Never involve the cops. Never, ever. No cops, he’d always been told ‘no cops’. He’d learned the ‘no cops’ lesson hard and painfully. And Roman go caught by the cops! Oh shit. Roman pulled his hands through his hair and stared at the floor, started rocking slightly, feeling like he couldn’t process this. He was so overwhelmed. He was caught. It was all too much. There was too much.

• “Roman?” The bedroom door cracked open as Roman’s heart leaped into his throat. He stared blankly forward and held himself, digging his nails into his arms. “Roman, woah, _woah_ ,” Thomas stepped into the room quickly. Everything- everything was too much. “Roman, look at me. Roman, let go, you’re bleeding!” Thomas said, but Roman wasn’t able to respond. He only barely heard the words. “Roman stop scratching! Shit, _augh_ , I’m stopping you, okay?” Thomas pulled Roman’s arms off himself and held them. “Can you hear me?” Roman swallowed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. He didn’t feel like he was there anymore. Everything felt very distant and surreal.

“Roman, look at me,” The voice said more firmly. He saw Thomas. “Shit. Okay, hold this,” The voice sounded panicked, and there was something red in front of him. Something put his hands on the thing. “No more scratching, hold the blanket. Do you know where you are?” Where was he? The thing was soft. He examined it. “Can you not talk?” The red fuzzy thing was nice. Roman ran it between his fingers.

“Pat, he’s not talking, and he’s barely responding. I don’t know what to do. Are you serious? Yeah, okay, I’ll try. Will you please keep your phone with you? Thanks, I’ll let you know. Roman, look at me,” Roman saw Thomas again. “Pat says you might be disassociating. Do you know what that is?” Roman just stared blankly at him. “Would you sing a song with me? I bet you know Oliver & Company,” That tugged at something in him, but he wasn’t sure.

“One minute I’m in Central Park. Then I’m down on Delancey Street. Said from the Bow’ry to St. Mark’s. There’s a syncopated beat,” He sang. It did sound kind of familiar. “I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo. I’m streetwise. I can improvise. I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo. I’m street-smart. I’ve got New York City heart,” Thomas kept singing. He remembered this song. He liked this song. “Why should I worry?” Roman joined him and Thomas smiled slightly. “Why should I care? I may not have a dime. But I got street savoir-faire,” Roman and Thomas sang together. It almost felt like something clicked in him as they kept singing the song.

“Are you finally back with me?” Thomas asked after finishing the song. He leaned down to look Roman in the face.

“I, uh, think so, I’m sorry,” Roman muttered sheepishly.

“Are you able to tell me what happened?” Thomas asked, looking concerned. “Why you… started doing that?”

“Th-the _cops_ ,” Roman’s breath hitched as he tried to explain and his throat threatened to close on him again.

“No, they’re not here, you weren’t arrested, you’re not in trouble. You’re perfectly _safe_ ,” Thomas insisted. He looked like he meant it, but Roman just couldn’t believe it.

“The-the bad stuff can still happen _after_ the cops leave,” Roman choked out. Like being punished for being caught.

“No ‘bad stuff’ is happening. You’re safe, I promise. They aren’t coming back and you aren’t being punished,” Thomas insisted again. What? No. No, he didn’t deserve this. He was supposed to be _punished_. Why wasn’t he being punished? The cops caught him!

“No, no, I fucked up spectacularly! I deserve it, I do! I don’t deserve all this niceness, Thomas! The cops were involved! I know I deserve-” Roman started rambling and rocking again.

“Roman, no. Stop. I don’t know what happened, but I don’t think you intended for any of this. Nobody deserves to be hurt over making a mistake,” Thomas said firmly, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder while he shook.

“What if it _wasn’t_ a mistake? What if I ran off and committed dangerous crimes intentionally?” Roman said angrily. Why wasn’t he being punished? He was supposed to be punished!

“Did you?” Thomas looked at him intensely.

“No! I just ran! Nothing else seemed to make sense at the time!” Roman shot. “You’re just so fucking nice and I don’t deserve any of this and I’ve fucked up so many times already and all this nice stuff freaked me out! It felt like the only thing I could do was run! I was scared! Why aren’t you punishing me?” Roman asked angrily and wrung the blanket in his hands.

“I mean, I’m not _happy_ you went for a barefoot run in the middle of the night, but it sounds like you weren’t thinking straight. Why do you think you messed up?” Thomas said, not exactly chidingly, but maybe something adjacent to it. Which was _still_ too nice for Roman.

“I did!” Roman shouted. “33 times! I keep talking back and being rude and upsetting you and Patton and breaking the rules and I made a scene and cost you money and I’m not doing enough around the house and I fought with Virgil and I literally ran away from you yesterday, Thomas! And that’s not counting being caught by the cops and the _ER_!” Roman could feel the hot tears running down his face.

“Roman. You’re not in trouble. None of those things are actually problems. Things got out of hand, but it’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong in my eyes,” Thomas said seriously. “Would you have come back when you went for a late-night run?” He asked carefully.

“I-yeah, I was just so tired. I think I sprinted all the way to the school, I don’t know, it was kind of a blur. I was just taking a break under the bleachers. I passed out, I guess. It was already past dawn when the cop found me and kept trying to wrongfully arrest me,” Roman squeezed the blanket as he tried to explain what happened sheepishly. But Roman barely knew what happened. He just remembered freaking out, running, freaking out, and then everything after that was all fuzzy and garbled and senseless.

“ _Wrongfully_ arrest you?” Thomas asked incredulously, sounding concerned.

“He didn’t actually catch me breaking any laws and tried to get me to incriminate myself,” Roman mumbled. “I mean I _did_ break curfew and trespass but he didn’t actually _see_ me do any of it. I was always warned about cops like him. I tried to leave and walk home before you should have been up, but he wouldn’t let me go and when he told me to get into his car, I blacked out… I don’t remember much after that,” Roman explained sheepishly, feeling like a fucking idiot, wringing the blanket in his hands.

“See, you made a bad judgment call, and it spiraled out of hand. I’m here to protect you from things like that. If anything, I’m the one who messed up last night for not making you feel safe enough to come to one of us when you were struggling,” Thomas said, critically of himself. What? That’s the wrong person! Thomas didn’t do anything wrong! Roman fucked up!

“What? _No_! I freaked out because you’re so nice and this place is so nice and I just don’t deserve any of it! I’m a bad kid! I’m an awful kid who ran off at one in the morning because I’m so much of a terrible fuck up that I couldn’t take it anymore!” Roman shot bitterly, feeling his eyes burn from the tears that kept escaping despite himself.

“Why do you think you’re a bad kid? We’ve _never_ told you that,” Thomas asked, looking terribly sad. No!

“You don’t _have_ to, I already _know_ I am! I’m shit in school, I’m always in the way, I’m annoying, I do stupid shit without realizing, I’m rude, I can’t sleep, I can’t keep track of time, I can’t do anything I’m supposed to do! You have to see it! You have to see I don’t deserve any of this and on Friday send me off to another shit home I actually deserve to be in!” Roman shouted, clenching his fists around the blanket.

“Like the Halls?” Thomas supplied, his eyebrows furrowed. Roman looked down in shame.

“Maybe? I don’t know!” Roman choked on a sob. His nails dug in through the blanket, he was grasping it so hard. He felt the tears roll down his face and drop on his blanket and clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop it.

“Did somebody there pull a gun on you?” Thomas asked and Roman’s eyes shot up to his face in surprise. Thomas looked intensely at Roman and he froze.

“How-how did…” Roman trailed off. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. “In general, having firearms means you fail the foster care pre-checks,” Roman tried to dodge the question nervously and looked away enough that he wasn’t looking Thomas in the face but still able to keep an eye Thomas’s reactions.

“What job did you have while you were with the Halls so you could support yourself?” Thomas looked very concerned, and Roman recoiled back slightly. He… he didn’t know what to do. Did Thomas know? He thought no one would ever find out. Nobody was supposed to find out! It was supposed to be a secret Roman was taking to his grave. Roman took a shuddering breath and tried to focus.

“I… I ran errands for Jet, my older foster brother,” Roman offered. That was close enough, right?

“Errands that got a _gun_ pulled on you?” Thomas asked, somewhere between disbelieving and distressed.

“I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just… running errands,” Roman looked down at his hands twisting on the blanket instead of seeing that expression anymore. He swallowed and there was a tense moment of silence between them.

“Fine, what did your foster brother do for work?” Thomas tried changing tactics. He didn’t look annoyed, but he did look kind of desperate and maybe a little sick. Roman could relate. Though he wouldn’t say ‘kind of’ or ‘a little’ about how he was feeling. Deeply and inconsolably desperate and close to throwing up was much more accurate.

“He was in sales,” Roman said firmly, shaking a little. That was the truth. He told the truth. It had to be enough.

“I’m sure that’s what he told you to say. But what did he actually do?” Thomas questioned him again.

“He sold things that make people happy,” Roman tried dodging the truth again with something else Jet said.

“Roman, I’m not taking you to the police. You’re not in trouble. It was in the past and it’s staying there. But I’m very worried about what kind of errands they were and I need to be able to take care of you. I can’t do that without knowing what’s going on. What did they make you do?” Thomas sounded really firm and clearly wasn’t going to drop it. Roman didn’t feel like fighting it anymore. He was sick of pretending it never happened or that it was okay.

“Drugs,” Roman whispered. “I… delivered drugs and made pickups for Jet. I was fast, and they didn’t think to look for kids, so…” Roman trailed off and carefully glanced up for Thomas’s reaction. Thomas’s eyes went wide, and he leaned back slightly, looking completely blindsided.

“Holy _shit_ , Roman,” Thomas whispered back and Roman broke down crying again. Thomas came forward again and Roman took his shoulder this time. Thomas silently held him for a bit while he cried. It was so relieving to finally admit it, but at the same time, it hurt so bad. Now Thomas finally knew how much of a fuck up he was and he’d make the right choice. But he hated knowing that Thomas knew how bad Roman really was. The crying hurt his ribs, and he kept flinching from the pain, but he just didn’t know how to stop it.

“Listen, Roman, it wasn’t right that they made you work to pay for yourself, and it wasn’t right that they forced you to go through any of that. You’re not a bad kid for trying to survive in a terrible situation,” Thomas said softly, holding on to him gently. What? No!

“I _am_ though, people got _hurt_ because of me. You weren’t _there_ , Thomas, you don’t know what I had to _do!_ ” Roman cried and clenched Thomas’s shirt tightly. “And there were all kinds of other stuff I did, too, it wasn’t just the drugs! All the talking back and broken rules and-” Roman tried to rattle off the list but Thomas interrupted him.

“Roman, I think you were unfairly punished for that stuff. And while I don’t know the whole situation, I don’t think it was really your choice if you did what you did to survive. If you really wanted to do it, you wouldn’t be so upset right now. You are not a bad kid. I’m so sorry you’ve had so many voices in your past telling you that you were,” Thomas interjected, and Roman couldn’t help but cry harder. Thomas reached up and rubbed his back. That couldn’t be right and he was so nice and Roman didn’t deserve any of this. He knew he was a bad kid. He thought this could finally be over if he just admitted it to Thomas and he could go be bad with other bad people again like he’s supposed to.

“I forgive you for anything that happened that you thought hurt our feelings, okay? We were just worried about you. We didn’t mean to make you feel like you did something wrong,” Thomas apologized and it sounded so sincere and…

“No, no, _please_ ,” Roman choked. “I _don’t_ -” Roman tried to stop him.

“You deserve forgiveness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve food and shelter and clothes being provided for you. You’re a _kid_ , Roman. I’m so sorry you had so many bad things happen in your past that hurt you so badly that you don’t think you should be allowed to be safe and happy,” Roman didn’t have any response to that. Just what felt like painful, unending tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 Warnings:  
> Unfair Punishments mention, Child Abuse Mention, Child Endangerment Mention, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Panic Attack, Disassociation, Self-Harm (while disassociated. At the • skip to the next paragraph to avoid it.), Desire to be Punished, Wrongful Arrest Mention, Gun Mention, Drug Mention, Crying, Anger Issues, So much sad
> 
> spoilers under here:  
> do I have the only drug dealer shorts printer character I have to know


	15. foster children glib about their trauma, tune in later for more!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's out of it, Thomas is upset, and Virgil continues to be a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in end notes

Roman numbly leaned against Thomas on the couch, buried under the throw from his bed as they watched Oliver & Company. He had cried himself out and he felt like he had nothing left in him. The bandages Thomas put on his arms to cover the cuts he gave himself were kind of itchy, and that was frustrating. But Thomas got a panicked look if he tried to scratch, and he just couldn’t do anything else to hurt Thomas any further. How could anybody fuck up as much as Roman and still get offered forgiveness? He was always taught some things couldn’t be forgiven. This really felt like this should be one of them. Roman caused so much trouble. But they were all quietly watching a movie. They should lock Roman in his closet or something, not leaning against Thomas and watching Virgil sometimes sign insults at the movie. If Patton weren’t still at work, he’d probably be on the other side of Roman with his arm around him. They were just so freaking nice.

Roman realized his eyes had drifted off the screen again, and he was staring at the floor. He brought his eyes back up and tried again. He really wanted to watch it and have a pleasant time with them, even if he thought he deserved to sleep on the patio or whatever. He liked this movie. He wanted to want to watch it. He wanted to pay attention to the movie. But he just felt off and wrong and exhausted and he couldn’t focus on the screen. He loved this movie. He thought it was brilliant at tugging your emotions. The intro always made him cry when he was younger, but not today. Roman cried enough for like 2 years or something. That was another thing he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that Thomas didn’t care about. Roman just couldn’t wrap his head around it. But his brain was also just so tired, so he shouldn’t expect much.

There was a part of him that just longed to go back to bed, even though he knew he couldn’t sleep. A movie was a good enough compromise. It was the same amount of activity as laying in bed with none of the sleep. At least the music was pleasant and there were pretty colours. Roman glanced over to Virgil sitting on the couch arm. Roman was surprised that Virgil was interested in joining. He reads books about institutionalized murder but wants to watch a movie about an orphaned cat who finds a family and a home? Virgil really didn’t seem like the Disney type. For one, he seemed to have dark humor. For two he dressed like he was hiding something with the all-black ensemble with the big black hoodie. It made little sense. Roman probably was just dumb. There were lots of things he just didn’t get, here.

The stupid bandages felt like they were crawling and they distracted Roman from the movie again. He looked up to Thomas, who seemed to be watching the movie. But Thomas would feel the couch move if he scratched, even if Roman sat up. The crawling sensation was nothing compared to upsetting Thomas again. Roman exhaled through his nose and tried to ignore it. He turned his eyes back to the screen and attempted to focus on that prissy poodle that Roman would never admit to anybody that he loved. Virgil knocked on the side table and Roman looked back over to him.

‘That’s you,’ Virgil signed. Roman rolled his eyes and looked back to the screen. He wished he had that kind of confidence and pizazz. And whatever eye cream she had. Roman always looked so tired. He wanted to look good and smile brightly and be impressive and make people happy and win contests. He wanted that so badly it killed him sometimes. Roman wasn’t good enough in real life to be anything like that, though. It was dumb to be jealous of a cartoon, though. Things didn’t work like that in real life. Not that he wouldn’t mind being a cartoon, either.

He could have a bird accompaniment like a Disney princess and fight foes that couldn’t really hurt him and win every time. He could sing dramatic songs as he defeated his foes. And live somewhere impressive where bills and expensive things don’t seem to matter, just like in cartoons. It would be nice. He wanted a katana and to fire energy blasts from his hands and use them to save the world, making smart quips and clever jokes the whole time. But he was just plain, shitty Roman, at the end of the day, who couldn’t save anybody, not even himself.

Roman sighed and worked on focusing his eyes back on the screen again. He had spaced out and missed part of the movie, but it’s not like he hadn’t seen it before. He’d seen the entire Disney anthology at least 3 times while babysitting. Jeffery’s parents had the complete collection and sometimes let him borrow the ones the Finley’s didn’t have for Jessica, Amber, and John. He wondered how they were doing. Mr. & Mrs. Finley didn’t have much time to pay any attention to them. Roman thought that’s why they kept him around. They wouldn’t get fed or take baths or pick up the floors if Roman wasn’t there to do it for them. He couldn’t keep his focus on the TV to save his life, huh? Roman blinked a few times and looked back to the screen.

“Is there anything you want for dinner, Roman?” Thomas asked. Roman blinked and shook his head to take himself out of it. Woah, he was really out of it that time. He wasn’t sure he was even thinking anymore. “Are you sure?”

“Uh, I’m not hungry,” Roman muttered. Roman shifted and laid down on the couch. Clearly some time had passed since the credits were nearly done rolling. He was too tired to care and didn’t feel like he deserved to eat and was too empty to even feel hungry.

“You’re not getting away with that Roman, you’re eating dinner. You didn’t eat breakfast and only finished an empanada for lunch. You barely weigh as much as a sack of potatoes,” Thomas said, getting up from the couch. Roman didn’t even remember that. He was glad he finally got that empanada for a moment until he realized he got something he wanted even though he didn’t earn one-if anything the opposite- and curled in on himself. Roman must have curled too tight and hissed when he hit his bruise.

“I’ll get you a fresh ice pack for that,” Thomas said compassionately and walked into the kitchen. Roman loosened up slightly and stared ahead. Virgil squatted in front of him and made a perplexed expression, like he was considering Roman for a moment.

‘What happened?’ Virgil signed, still looking confused.

‘Life,’ Roman signed back.

‘I mean last night, fuckhead,’ Virgil rolled his eyes.

‘Too nice. Freaked out. Ran,’ Roman signed. ‘How did you know?’

‘Damn dog woke up the entire house barking,’ Virgil replied, looking annoyed.

‘Foiled by a dog,’ Roman fingerspelled and snapped his fingers jokingly and made a face. His attempt to cheer himself up failed and he sighed. ‘Still hard to hate her,’ He added after a moment.

‘She’s impossibly cute,’ Virgil shrugged. ‘Try shooting her some time,’

‘What?’ Roman signed, confused. Was Virgil joking about hurting the dog? That didn’t seem right.

‘It’s a trick. Finger guns. Try it,’ Virgil explained and sat down on the floor. Roman was immediately relieved that it wasn’t some wildly grim joke. ‘What happened to your arms?’

‘Thomas said it was me,’ Roman signed back.

“Here you go, Roman,” Thomas said, passing the ice pack down over the couch to Roman. “Virgil, do you want anything specific for dinner?” Thomas asked. Roman carefully placed the ice pack on his bruise and sighed, watching for Virgil’s response.

“Tater tots,” Roman said for Virgil.

“Thanks, I just caught lots of T’s, I think. Is chicken and roasted vegetables acceptable with the tater tots?” Thomas asked. Virgil nodded. “Do you have any preference yet, Roman?” Roman just shook his head. “Patton’s almost home. I’m sorry in advance. I’ve asked him to give you your space, just tell him to back off if he gets too intense,” Thomas said, sounding wary.

‘Good luck with that,’ Virgil smirked. Roman huffed, he was right about that.

‘Do you want the TV?’ Roman asked Virgil hopefully.

‘Why?’ Virgil raised his eyebrows.

‘I’d rather watch you do something than stare at the wall,’ Roman signed back. His feet hurt too much to go upstairs and Thomas didn’t want him to be alone right now. Roman would just stare blankly at his phone upstairs anyway, he may as well stare blankly at the TV some more.

Virgil shrugged and got up, heading over to the TV and loading up some game with pretty music where a guy in a cloak jumps around collecting sigil things. The graphics were simple but somehow lovely. It was really soothing to watch. Roman was happy to space into it. The running in the desert was a little repetitive, but Roman didn’t mind that as much as he normally would. He had actually managed to watch it for a little while since it was so easy to follow and there was no dialogue.

“Roman! I’m so happy you’re safe!” Patton cooed loudly and Roman jumped and flinched back, accidentally curling into himself and pushing the ice pack into his bruise. He did his best to breathe through it and not cuss, but god damn holy fucking shit that hurt. “What’s wrong?” Patton asked, looking at Roman’s strained face.

“He got a giant bruise somehow. He doesn’t remember it,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

“It must have happened when I was in custody,” Roman grunted, carefully shifting back into place.

“What?!” Patton shot and Roman flinched again, more careful about the bruise this time. Virgil also flinched from the sudden sound and eyed Patton warily. “I’m sorry, boys. That just boils my _beans_ ,” Patton frowned, looking extremely upset. He crossed his arms and looked to the floor, grumbling quietly.

“Why do you say that, Roman?” Thomas asked, coming into the living room, possibly to try to cool Patton down, since he took his hand and lead him to sit down on the couch. Lita bounded in and sat on Patton’s lap as soon as he hit the couch. Patton pet Lita absentmindedly and Thomas scratched behind her ears.

“I went for a _run_ , not a street fight. I blacked out and woke up with a bruise in the hospital after he asked me to come with him. When else was it supposed to happen? The dude was itching to arrest me, he probably got pissed when I passed out on him,” Roman explained. “Can’t further incriminate an unconscious teenager,” Roman said flippantly and tapped his temple. Virgil smirked slightly, still looking very unsettled.

“Roman, you’re suggesting something really serious,” Patton said, looking firmly at him.

“What, I had a seizure with absolutely _no_ history of them and got a bruise the size of a steel-toed boot somewhere that was unlikely to have gotten enough impact to bruise? And there’s none anywhere _else_ , despite the bruising force? Come on, I _know_ what a bruise from a work boot looks like,” Roman rolled his eyes. “You’ll probably see the imprint line from the rubber sole tomorrow,” Roman flipped his hand like he was smacking the suggestion away.

“If that’s the case, we’re making a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. We need this documented to file a complaint,” Patton said quietly and nodded. Roman’s eyes widened in terror and he looked to Thomas desperately.

“No, no, Roman, you don’t have to see him again. We’ll get the doctor to take pictures and file like that. If you can really see the line from his boot, it should be a cut-and-dry complaint. Maybe we can get him off the street,” Thomas held up his hands. “Let me get you some cold water and just breathe for me, okay?” Roman nodded meekly and stared back at the paused game. Virgil looked nervous and swallowed heavily.

“I’m sorry, Virgil,” Roman whispered. Virgil shook his head and pressed his nails into his palms lightly.

‘Police bad memories,’ Virgil signed disjointedly.

‘Me too,’ Roman sighed. ‘Still here?’

‘Yes. Game,’ Virgil signed and picked back up the controller.

“Let’s go to the cat cafe!” Patton suddenly said after staring at them for a moment, looking sad. Thomas came back in with the glass of cold water. Roman slowly sat up and took the water tentatively.

“I really don’t think I could walk there if I tried,” Roman said quietly, tapping the glass nervously.

“Well, everybody wanted to do it the other day, I just wanted to cheer you two up,” Patton frowned, looking contemplative again.

“What about s’mores? We don’t have to walk anywhere for that and still get chocolate,” Thomas suggested instead. He eyed Virgil for a moment and turned around to the kitchen again.

“That sounds cool,” Roman muttered. He liked the sound of it but struggled to feel excited about it at the moment.

“I like the sound of that, how do you feel about s’mores, Virgil?” Patton asked. Thomas came back in with some cold water for Virgil as well. Virgil was a little shell-shocked when he took it but sipped it slightly as well. Roman watched Thomas head back into the kitchen and felt the cool glass in his hands and tried to focus on that feeling.

“Is there something you’re hesitant about?” Patton asked after Patton didn’t answer.

‘Fire,’ Virgil signed.

“The fire part,” Roman provided.

“Oh, well, we don’t have to use that, kiddo! We can make the s’mores indoors,” Patton put heavy emphasis on the rhyme. “We could eat them after dinner with a bit of vanilla ice cream!” Patton smiled brightly, though there was still a deep concern in his eyes. Virgil nodded slightly and went back to playing.

Patton looked like he was considering something and nodded resolutely… to himself, maybe. Roman felt the wet glass and sipped the cool water as he watched Virgil go through this giant pillar room he was slowly filling with a magic sea. Roman noticed that sometimes Virgil would run his nails under his other nails while the cut scenes played. Maybe it was relaxing to him. Roman tried it and it felt really weird. Maybe it was different with longer nails. Virgil had more length on him. Roman sometimes chewed his nails when he was studying and they never got very long. Virgil painted his nails. Maybe that would help him stop. He’d have to buy some nail polish or something. But he had roughly five dollars and change to his name. He sort of needed to resolve that.

“Hey, um, Patton,” Roman stuttered, not taking his eyes off the screen to look to Patton.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Patton asked, still with those concerned eyes. Ugh. They seriously had to be the nicest people on the planet. Roman couldn’t understand it and it was starting to make him angry. He took a deep breath and tried to focus up again.

“Am I allowed to get a job? You know, go babysit or mow lawns?” Roman asked meekly.

“Well-” Patton started.

“ _No_ , Roman. You don’t have to work for money,” Thomas called and insisted firmly from the kitchen.

“I don’t-” Patton started, looking like he was confused and disagreed.

“ _Trust_ me, Pat. It’s a hard no,” Thomas called back with an edge to his voice.

“Well, I guess not,” Patton shrugged. “We give Virgil $30 a month, and you’ll get the same. But if you want books or art supplies or something for a hobby, we’ll get them for you, anyway if it isn’t too outlandish. I think Virgil mostly uses his allowance on digital media,” Patton explained. Virgil shrugged.

“That’s… giving me money for doing nothing,” Roman said incredulously.

“You’re not doing nothing, kiddo! You’re working hard in school, keeping up your parts of the house, and figuring out who you are and what you want to do! None of that stuff is nothing,” Patton objected and explained calmly. “If you’ve got other expenses you want to talk about, we’re happy to work out a deal,” But what about what he owed them for staying here? If they gave him money for everything he did around the house, it sort of made it harder to pay them back.

“As long as you’re not working a job,” Thomas provided, sounding very resolute, from the kitchen.

“Come _on_ , Thomas, it’s not like I will go out and work for Jet again,” Roman groaned, not appreciating the distrust.

“It’s not about that, it’s about that fact that you shouldn’t have to and I think it’s _sick_ you were forced to,” Thomas reiterated, coming back out into the living room and standing behind Roman’s spot on the couch. “I don’t think you have a healthy relationship with money, _period_ ,” Thomas gripped the back of the couch.

“I don’t like not doing anything,” Roman rubbed the glass and stared into it. “Plus, I could make more by myself and you guys wouldn’t have to waste any money on me,”

“See, Roman, we don’t think it’s wasting money. We do think it’s wasting your childhood if you’re working,” Thomas insisted, sounding very intense. Roman huffed sourly. 

“Didn’t you do fun stuff at the Finley’s, champ? You couldn’t have been babysitting every night. We want you to have more time for school and fun,” Patton said. The cheer in his voice was tainted with sadness, though. Roman froze and swallowed.

“Oh, god, Roman, please don’t tell me…” Thomas moaned and rubbed his face.

“Okay, I _won’t_ ,” Roman said sourly, dragging his nail along the cup.

“What?” Patton said, looking between the two.

“He _was_ babysitting every night. And probably all weekend. And when you weren’t watching the Finley’s kids you were watching somebody else’s. Am I right?” Thomas asked. Roman nodded slowly.

“I don’t mind babysitting. I got to watch movies with them and stuff, too. We played games together, and I got to do stuff after I put them to bed,” Roman muttered in defense of himself, not able to meet Thomas’s eyes.

“Did your caseworker know this?” Thomas asked seriously.

“Maybe? I’ve been taking care of the younger kids for a while, it’s not that weird,” Roman offered weakly.

“I think that’s somehow _worse_ ,” Thomas rubbed his head, looking frustrated.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered and dropped his head on to the glass.

“Roman, no, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situations I don’t think you even realized you were in,” Thomas said softly.

“I wasn’t in any situations. I’m still here,” Roman objected quietly.

“Roman, you can’t tell me that being forced to _traffic drugs_ because your foster family wouldn’t _feed_ you _wasn’t_ a situation,” Thomas said firmly, sounding frustrated and gripping the couch even harder.

“ _What_!?” Patton shot up and looked scandalized, and Virgil bolted. Roman wished he could have, too, but he was so tired and his feet hurt badly and a loud part of him just wanted to get punished already so he could finally feel right in the world.

“I’ll go make sure Virgil’s okay. Pat, _please_ settle down. I think we might need a no loud sudden noises rule,” Thomas said, walking up the stairs. Roman hoped Virgil was okay and tried to breathe. The air from the cool water kind of helped, but he struggled with keeping a grip on himself.

“I’m sorry, Roman,” Patton said sheepishly. “Did you _really_ …” Patton trailed off. Roman nodded weakly. “I’ll… have to work on not shouting. I’m really sorry, kiddo,” Patton said sheepishly. Roman shook his head. “I have things to be filled in on,” Patton added after a minute. “Is it okay… I mean, do you mind if Thomas puts me in the loop so I can hopefully not do that again?” Patton asked, sounding upset. The whole drug dealer crony thing was out of the bag. He may as well know the rest. It’s not like it was the whole story or even the worst thing he’d done. It would be easier if Patton knew. And then Patton could talk some sense into Thomas and they’d send him away and he could be a piece of shit somewhere less nice. Roman swallowed and signed yes, not willing to raise his head from the cup and afraid of crying again if he opened his mouth to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15 Warnings:  
> Disassociation, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Death Mention, Food, Doctor Mention, Food Issues, Anxiety Attack, Bruises, Police Brutality Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Anger Issues, Drug Trafficking Mention


	16. traumatized child convinced foster parents are too good for him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has some objections to all of this and also card tricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in end notes

“Are you doing okay, kiddo?” Patton asked, sitting across the couch and looking at him with those damned kind eyes. Roman didn’t respond. He didn’t feel like he could even form the words without breaking apart. He didn’t even want to think about how not all right he was at the moment, much less articulate it. Patton seemed to get the picture after a lengthy pause, because he changed the subject. “So what were you looking to buy that you wanted a job for?” Patton asked politely. “If you need to sign it, just hold up the letters long enough that I can read it,” Patton added after a prolonged moment of silence. Roman held up his hand to sign the letters, but kept a hold of the glass of water between his legs with the other hand and didn’t look away from focusing on the melting ice cubes in the water.

“D…S…? Is that right?” Patton said, sounding very confused. After a moment it seemed to click with him. “Like the _Nintendo_? Kiddo, I think Tomathy had one in his office he doesn’t use,” Patton said plainly, sounding like he shifted on the couch. “I don’t think he’d care if you wanted to borrow it. What game did you want to play on it?” Roman looked up and scrunched up his face, trying to remember that one what had dragons and farming one of his old friends really liked. It took a minute, but he eventually raised his hand to sign the letters. “R-u-n-e-f-a-c-t-o-r-y? What’s that? F-a-r-m? Oh, one of those farming games? Did you want to play something relaxing?” Roman nodded and signed yes. Patton smiled lightly, but his eyes were still laced with concern. As long as he didn’t vocally acknowledge it right now. Roman signed why he wanted to play it. “B-e-d? Not _in_ bed, I hope. B-4? Oh, before. I don’t think Thomas has that one,” Roman shrugged. He was intending to save up for a DS in the first place, buying the game was assumed.

“Thomas doesn’t have what?” Thomas asked, coming back down the stairs. He didn’t look too distressed, so hopefully that meant Virgil was okay. Part of him wanted to ask, but that meant that meant he had to acknowledge it as his fault and that he also wasn’t okay and Roman wasn’t capable of doing that at the moment.

“Run-e… factory, I think? Roman wanted to play it to calm down before bed,” Patton explained and nodded to Roman.

“Runny Factory?” Thomas asked, making a baffled expression and looked to Roman. Roman spelled rune again for him. “Oh! Rune Factory! No, I don’t have that. That’s a fantasy game, right? I’ve heard good things about it, the storyline and music are supposed to be superb,” Thomas said and Roman nodded silently. He just liked the fantasy element and thought breaking up the farming with monster murder would be more interesting than just farming. Breaking up the monster murder with something laid back also seemed cool. He took a deep breath and sipped his water again. His throat was still so tight it hurt a little going down, but he was feeling like maybe he could continue to be okay as long as nobody made him think about himself. “Hey, uh, Roman, did you know?” Thomas asked a little awkwardly and Roman looked up at him in confusion. “About… Virgil?” Thomas finished. Roman put the glass of water between his legs to free up his hand.

‘What about him?’ Roman signed.

“Are you having trouble talking? I’m not any further than learning the alphabet yet, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, sitting next to Thomas. Roman motioned for him to come closer and Thomas complied and leaned in.

“Know what?” Roman whispered. He could mange whispering right now. He was just trying his damnedest not to break down again. He was not stuck in the shitty boat Virgil was. He picked back up his water cup and held it with both hands.

“That maybe he also has PTSD from… other homes?” Thomas asked softly, looking disconcerted.

“What do you mean also?” Roman whispered.

“The ER doctor thinks you have it. Do you remember being in the ER?” Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

“Not much,” Roman said under his breath. This was going into territory Roman wasn’t so comfortable in.

“There’s stuff about PTSD I guess we didn’t realize until now, I guess. Like that it wasn’t just about certain triggers,” Thomas clarified. “Did he say anything to you?” Thomas asked with concern.

“He might have mentioned it,” Roman whispered. “He noticed I was… worried about you guys hitting me and he told me I was safe. Then explained that it’s why he noticed. He implied he didn’t like talking about it. I kind of agree with him,” He admitted. He didn’t want to talk about it right now, for sure, but talking about it any time wasn’t ideal.

“I wish one of you would have told us, but I can’t fault you for not wanting to think about it,” Thomas looked frustrated for a moment, but his face softened again when he saw Roman back up slightly. “Have you heard of age regression?” Thomas asked. That seemed out of the blue. It baffled Roman enough that he no longer was shying away from Thomas.

“That’s that _thing_ perverts do, isn’t it?” Roman asked quietly and raised an eyebrow at Thomas, a little confused on why he would bring it up.

“What?” Thomas looked just as bewildered as Roman felt. “Oh, I _hate_ having to google these things,” He muttered. “Not that. This is medical,” Thomas said more clearly and sighed, shaking his head. Oh, well, that’s good, maybe? “Sometimes certain triggers can cause age regression in PTSD patients. Do you know how I know how I know you had a gun pulled on you?” Thomas asked, looking like he was examining Roman now. It unnerved him a bit.

“No,” Roman muttered, watching Thomas nervously in return and gripping the cold glass firmly.

“Because you told me. You were a very mouthy 13-year-old. You also thought I was Satan for a bit,” Thomas said, sounding kind of amused. Roman stared at him for a moment while he processed what Thomas said. When he realized he that he might have cussed out Thomas, his eyes widened and he shut them tight, trying to to freak out. Thomas didn’t deserve his defensive bullshit. He had to put up an aggressive front or people wouldn’t take him seriously. It didn’t pay off for him in the end, though, and he regretted ever doing it.

“Sorry,” Roman choked out and tensed up.

“No, no, it was kind of cute,” Thomas chuckled weakly and looked to Roman reassuringly. Roman took a deep breath and tried to settle down. Cute wasn’t exactly what Roman was going for, but at least he didn’t hurt Thomas’s feelings or anything. “Well, Other than the fact that you were disappointed you didn’t die. You don’t still feel like that, do you?” Thomas asked softly, sounding sad. Roman’s shoulders flinched, and he swallowed hard.

“Doesn’t everybody?” Roman whispered, joking weakly. The small broken laugh that accompanied it wasn’t the most convincing thing he’d ever done.

“No, Roman, that’s _not_ normal,” Thomas said, putting his arm on the couch over Roman’s shoulder’s without touching him. Roman could feel the heat from his arm but appreciated not being touched. He was even closer to breaking down now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. “You got a referral for a psychiatrist at the ER and I’ll be making you an appointment, okay?”

“No, Thomas, please! I’ll be good, I’ll try not to-” Roman started babbling loudly, shooting a desperate look up to him.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay!” Patton held his hands up and cut Roman off. Roman held his lips closed tight in a thin line.

“Why are you scared of the psychiatrist?” Thomas looked pointedly at Roman.

“My… They’ll know- The foster people. That I’m a bad kid. And then they won’t be able to place me, and then I’ll be stuck in one of those holding centers, they’re worse than the group homes, they’re really awful and that’s… I just can’t,” Roman rambled choked on a sob. He sniffled and dropped back against his cup, a tear breaking loose despite how hard he fought against it.

“Why are you worried about going to a holding center?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

“’Cuz having mental health record is bad and harder to place since I’d be special needs,” Roman mumbled between his legs, starting to cry.

“Do you still think we’re sending you back on Friday, Roman?” Thomas sounded sad.

“Maybe,” Roman breathed.

“I missed that,” Thomas said. Roman looked up and glanced at Thomas.

“You should! I don’t belong here! I belong somewhere crappy where I’m too busy trying to survive to have to think about things. I never… I never struggled like this. At least not until I got used to not having Remus around,” Roman sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He and Remus had a shitty time when the memories were fresh, but losing Remus was worse.

“Actually, sometimes people who have been in a hard situation for a long time usually struggle in more positive environments because they’re not sure how to process love and support. Did getting separated from your brother really hurt?” Patton piped up, sounding very compassionate when he suggested an explanation. Roman barely understood what he meant, but he could follow the question easily.

“It was like they took half of me away when they tore us apart,” Roman grumbled.

“Maybe because it was the last bit of stability and support you had, you closed off and just tried to deal with the situation, and you’ve been doing that ever since,” Patton offered, continuing his explanation. Roman couldn’t completely follow, though.

“What?” Roman asked. His head hurt and he didn’t comprehend a lick of that. Some more tears broke free, and he sniffled again.

“I think you belong here,” Patton said resolutely. Roman could follow that much easier. _Wait_ , what the fuck? _No, he couldn’t!_

“ _What_?” Roman asked more incredulously, wiping his eyes.

“You love _Disney_ and _The Princess Bride_ and books and you’re kind and considerate and quick and Lita loves you. And Virgil’s opened up more since you got here, so I think he likes you, too,” Patton said, holding up a finger. “You fit in just fine! All the other stuff isn’t you. It’s what you’ve been through,” He smiled brightly, looking confident. That didn’t make sense, though. He was a fuck up for a castle keep full of reasons.

“I wasn’t able to sleep or keep track of time or sit still or do well in school before everything else. There’s plenty of stuff that I’m bad at, that’s all me,” Roman grumbled in objection.

“And there're ways you can learn to cope with all of that when you’re somewhere safe,” Patton provided.

“I can’t stay here,” Roman rested his chin on his legs and stared forward, feeling despondent. He couldn’t stop the stray tears, but he was too empty to freak out anymore. Thomas looked bewildered and sad out of the corner of his eyes, but he said nothing.

“And why is that?” Patton asked evenly, though his eyes looked sad.

“I’ll…” Roman dropped his head into his legs again. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“You’ll what?” Patton urged him to continue.

“It’s selfish, and it’s unrealistic,” Roman grumbled, shifting to sip his water. A timer in the kitchen dinged and Thomas got up. Roman flinched from the motion and sighed. He was so on edge it physically hurt. He was buzzing with restlessness but too tired and sad to even start figuring out how he could fix it.

“How about I decide that?” Patton asked softly.

“I have to get to go to a home that’s willing to take two kids when Remus also needs placement. I’ll never see him again until we turn 18 if I don’t. If he doesn’t hate me by then, anyway,” Roman sighed again and looked up to the ceiling.

“I promise we’ll take you to see him when we can, Roman,” Patton said, and he sounded like he meant it, unlike most other times he’s heard it. Though he could never really trust adults meant it when they offered, though. He’d been burned too many times before. Patton probably only meant it at the moment, but it would be too much when the time came, just like always.

“But I won’t get to be his brother again,” Roman said despondently. “Whisper nonsense words and have him completely understand me. Play fight like the fate of the world depends on the outcome. Write stories with him that turn into whole universes. All the stuff we _used_ to have. The brother stuff you can only have when you’re a kid and you live together,” Patton looked somber but didn’t say anything. There really wasn’t anything _to_ say.

“I hope you’re hungry, Roman,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

“You _know_ I’m not,” Roman groaned loudly.

“Too bad!” Thomas called back. Roman sighed and sipped his water again.

“I would miss you guys… I’m not trying to say I don’t… appreciate you being nice and stuff. As much as it drives me up the wall,” Roman chuckled weakly and Patton pouted at that. “I just… I’ve been going this long on the hope I’d get him back. I got through everything I did because I never let go of the hope of being reunited, you know? I just can’t _let go_ of that. And I don’t want to make it harder to be placed and then lessen my chances even further of getting to be with him again. I’ll be good, I promise, okay? I just can’t have that go on my records,” Roman begged him.

“How about I talk to your caseworker about it when we see him Friday? See what we can do without it going on your state records?” Patton offered gently, looking strangely conciliatory for someone who did nothing wrong.

“I’m a ward of the state who is just staying at your house. They _own_ my ass,” Roman bit, though there was very little energy or aggression behind it, mostly just tired frustration with his situation.

“Roman, I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to be _mean_ ,” Patton chided, frowning slightly.

“Sorry,” Roman sighed heavily. “Right after I said I’d be good and _everything,_ ” Roman muttered to himself sourly. Roman wished he knew how to stop being a bastard already.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Patton said. “And I’m going to either way as your guardian, but I’d much rather you be on board with it,” Patton said gesturing with his hand.

“Thanks for your honesty, I guess,” Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m on board as long as it doesn’t hurt my chances,” It was just asking, not acting in it. Roman leaned back again and put his cup down on the side table. He was so fucking itchy still. Thomas couldn’t see him, though, it was just Patton in the room. He probably wouldn’t freak out at a little itch. Roman scratched at the edges of the bandages and exhaled in relief as he itched at the adhesive, which stung slightly.

“No scratching!” Thomas called from the kitchen and Roman froze in complete and utter bafflement.

“What the _actual fuck_ , Thomas?” Roman groaned loudly enough to project into the kitchen.

“ _Dad powers_ ,” Thomas said seriously. “Apologize for cursing,”

“Sorry for saying fuck,” Roman huffed and dropped his arms in defeat to the couch with a light thud.

“Roman,” Patton said firmly, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“Sorry for saying it _again_ ,” Roman rolled his eyes and saw Virgil come back down the stairs. He looked pretty okay other than kind of tired, which was relieving.

‘Saying fuck in front of Pat twice?’ Virgil signed. ‘Props,’ He fingerspelled.

‘Nice to see your dumb face again,’ Roman signed back.

‘Can’t say the same to you,’ Virgil signed and smirked at him before sitting back down at his controller and starting to play again. He glanced over to Patton, who mostly just seemed to be considering something. Roman was just glad the conversation was over. He turned his eyes back to the TV screen to watch the game again. He slowly loosened back up as he watched Virgil play. The long scarf physics were really eye-catching, and he just let himself drift to that.

“Dinner’s ready!” Thomas called after an interminable period of silently watching the cloaked guy running through the level. Patton smiled at them and got up and headed to the kitchen. Virgil looked Roman up and down after he paused the game.

‘You don’t look capable of crime,’ Virgil signed and looked at him disbelievingly. _Wow_ , Virgil didn’t beat around the bush.

‘Thanks?’ Roman signed, raising an eyebrow. Maybe that was a good thing?

‘Can you do anything other than sell drugs?’ Virgil signed.

‘You cut right to the point,’ Roman made a face at him. He wasn’t sure what Virgil was getting at, but it was weird to straight-up ask.

‘Can you?’ Virgil signed again.

‘I can pick pockets and pick locks,’ Roman fingerspelled. He could do other things, too, but he wasn’t as ashamed of those things as the others.

‘No shit?’ Virgil signed and some excitement in his eyes leaked into the disbelieving expression.

‘Seriously,’ Roman signed back and nodded.

‘You’re lying,’ Virgil frowned. Fucker. Roman wasn’t lying.

‘I’ll prove it,’ Roman signed, getting up from the couch. He had to talk carefully and tenderly to the kitchen on his fucked up feet, but found a stride.

Thomas was still at the stove getting things on to serving dishes and Patton was putting water cups at the table. This was too freaking easy. Roman picked Thomas’s wallet as he passed and nonchalantly slid it in his pocket. He sat down and smiled at Patton, who smiled back and sat down. Virgil joined them at the table and stared at Roman, clearly waiting for him to do something. Roman smirked and pulled Thomas’s wallet out, throwing it at Virgil. He caught it and looked between the wallet and Roman. Patton looked up from serving himself food and saw them.

“Virgil, why do you have your wallet at the table?” Patton asked, peering closer. “Actually, isn’t that Thomas’s? Did you find it somewhere?” Patton asked, taking it from Virgil’s hands. “Virgil found your wallet, Thomas,” Patton said as Thomas walked over with the last of the food and placed it down on the table, looking confused.

“What? I don’t remember taking it out. Thank you, Virgil,” Thomas said, taking the wallet back from Patton and sliding it back in his back pocket before sitting down. Roman leaned on the table and smirked, raising his eyebrow at Virgil in anticipation.

‘You absolute bastard,’ Virgil signed, looking extremely impressed. Roman took a bow.

‘Careful, it’s not all I can do,’ Roman sat back in his chair, looking concernedly at all the food now.

‘Don’t threaten me with a good time,’ Virgil signed back before reaching over to serve himself a giant pile of tater tots. He served a single tater tot to Roman with a smirk before reaching out to grab a piece of chicken.

“I’m not beyond serving you food and sitting here until you eat it,” Thomas eyed Roman. Roman sighed and grabbed a small piece of chicken and a single scoop of vegetables. “That’s half as much as Virgil is eating, Roman,” Thomas said critically.

“I’m 100% positive he’s powered by a black hole,” Roman objected sourly, motioning to Virgil.

‘Thanks,’ Virgil smirked and started eating.

“Teenagers are biologically hungry, and you are not exempt,” Thomas corrected him.

“It’s fine,” Roman huffed.

“I think we’ve successfully established you don’t have the best impression of what _fine_ is, Roman,” Thomas said critically and leaned back in his chair.

“Thomas, _sassing_ Roman isn’t nice,” Patton chided him. “Just take a _tiny_ bit more, okay, kiddo?” Patton looked at him pleadingly. Virgil served Roman another single tater tot.

‘There. More,’ Virgil signed and Roman laughed. _This_ fucking guy.

“Thank you,” Roman smiled and signed as he spoke.

“Virgil, don’t encourage him,” Thomas frowned and chided Virgil.

‘Sure. You suck, Roman,’ Virgil signed with a lopsided grin.

“Oh, I’m _wounded_ ,” Roman put his palm to his forehead and leaned back dramatically. It did actually start to smell good, at least. Roman began eating slowly, trying to get it over with, but the more he ate the easier it finally felt and the more his stomach woke up. It stopped hurting when he ate, and he ate more comfortably. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. Sanders,” He said absentmindedly as he reached out for another serving of vegetables.

“Um, you’re welcome, Roman,” Thomas sounded a little confused, but the food was good and Roman didn’t bother looking up from eating. He grabbed a second piece of chicken, as well, after finishing the first one. Virgil knocked on the table and Roman looked up at him.

‘Are you going to tell them you stole his wallet?’ Virgil asked. Roman put down his fork and swallowed.

‘Why?’ Roman signed back, confused. Tell them he stole from Thomas? That was dumb.

‘Because they won’t be mad and I want to see their faces,’ Virgil signed. Maybe they _wouldn’t_ and everything would be chill _._ But if they did get mad, maybe he’d finally get punished and fell right in the freaking world again. It seemed like a win-win scenario with a bonus of amusing Virgil.

‘Fair,’ Roman shrugged. He finally felt awake and feeling impulsive. Virgil laughs, well, as much as he _does_ , and Roman gets sent to his room without dessert or something assuredly way too tame for what he did.

“You didn’t lose your wallet, Thomas. I picked your pocket,” Roman said flippantly, eating one of his two tater tots. They both stared at him dubiously and exchanged a look before looking back at Roman. Virgil leaned forward to watch, looking amused already.

“…Why?” Patton asked after a quiet moment of confusion. Virgil did that silent laughing thing behind his hand.

“He didn’t believe me,” Roman pointed to Virgil. “I didn’t take anything. I don’t think it’s right to steal money. I just wanted to prove I could,” Roman explained with a smug smile and a little shrug. Roman had enough money stolen from him that he genuinely couldn’t bear to do it to anyone else anymore.

“Why can you…” Patton started to ask but trailed off. He probably answered his own question as Roman raised his eyebrow and leaned on his arm.

“I learned how to do lots of things,” Roman passed his hand over the tater tot on his plate and it disappeared. Roman passed it quickly behind his back and popped it in his mouth while they were all looking at the plate. “Magic!” He announced. Stoners fucking loved sleight of hand. He once got a fifty dollar tip from a guy who was completely blasted.

Lita weaved under his feet and he shivered from the dog fur through his sock. His feet were still feeling raw from his run this morning. Roman pulled them up and went back to eating his vegetables. Thomas looked shocked and Patton beamed in delight. Virgil looked unimpressed as usual and returned to going to town on the pile of tater tots.

“Do you know any other magic tricks, Roman?” Patton asked with a sparkle in his eye.

“I know sleight of hand and card tricks, not any magic-magic tricks,” Roman shrugged. “Nothing fancy,”

“Well, will you show me one after dinner?” Patton smiled, returning to cutting up his chicken.

“Do you know the four kings in the tower?” Roman asked, interested in getting to show off.

“No,” Patton shook his head, looking invested already.

“Then _that_ it shall be,” Roman declared regally, twisting his fork in the air. He rolled his eyes at his own idiocy and returned to eating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 Warnings:  
> Death Mention, Doctor Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Foster Care Issues, Anxiety Attack, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Stealing/Theft, Desire to be Punished, Food Issues


	17. guardian concerned with why foster child knows how to remove blood from fabric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has A Day™.

Roman sat nervously kicking his feet in the doctor’s office. He didn’t like the doctor’s office. The smell of all the antiseptic always set him off. The crinkly paper on the exam table felt wrong. Tongue depressors made him feel sick. It brought up too many bad memories he had to fight to not fall into. Parents always resented having to take him if they ever even bothered so it felt like he was in trouble. They just rubbed him the wrong way, and he hated being here. The door opened and Roman looked up to see the doctor walk in.

“So what brings you in today?”

“Roman’s got a bad bruise over his ribs and we’d like it recorded and x-rayed,” Thomas motioned to Roman on the table. Roman waved nervously to the doctor with the tips of his fingers. He just wanted to get this over with and leave more than anything.

“Can you show me the bruise?” The doctor asked. Roman swallowed and nodded, pulling up his shirt. The purple really came bursting out today. It was purple and green and just generally sickly looking, blossoming slightly from the original green blot. You could just barely make out the line from the rubber sole, just like Roman thought he would. They could probably see it better tomorrow.

“That is a nasty one. What’s it from?” The Doctor asked, examining the mark closely.

“Steel-toed boot,” Roman supplied. The doctor looked shocked for a moment and his face hardened.

“Could you leave the room for a moment, Mr. Sanders?” The doctor asked firmly and Thomas nodded, getting out of the chair and stepping out into the hall. Roman looked desperately to Thomas as he left. He didn’t want to be left alone in here. Thomas gave him a small reassuring smile. He didn’t want a smile, he wanted Thomas back in here.

“Are you safe at home?” The doctor asked.

“Um, yeah, I think a cop did this,” Roman mumbled. “Can he come back in? Please?” Roman asked desperately, pointing at the door.

“Oh, that’s very serious,” The doctor muttered and walked over to the door and opened it. “You can come back in, Mr. Sanders. All right, let me examine it and then we’ll send you down the hall for x-rays and photos if it’s necessary,” The doctor put his stethoscope on Roman’s back. “Breathe in,” Roman complied and winced. “And out,” Roman’s breath shuddered. They did it a second time with equally painful results. “Will you lie back on the table and hold your shirt up?” The Doctor asked. Roman nodded and leaned back to let the doctor prod at it. It was possibly more sore after deep breathing than it was before. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Roman hissed through his teeth. The doctor hummed in concern.

“I need you to take another deep breath,” The doctor requested.

“Do I really have to?” Roman moaned. It hurt like a bitch and this was the last place he wanted to be in pain.

“I’m afraid so,” The doctor nodded. “Breathe in. Hold it. Alright, let it out slowly,” Roman hissed again as he let out the air, flinching. “Yes, I think x-rays will be necessary. Take a left when you exit and wait in the lobby on the right labeled Radiology and they’ll call you in. I’ll let the techs know they need to take regular photos when they’re done. It would be smart to take some photos yourself and document it for the next few days as well,” The doctor said. “I should be clear that I’m not willing to testify for the patient’s sake, I don’t have that kind of time. If you are planning on suing, you should get a doctor recommendation from a lawyer. I’m willing to document today’s evidence, though. Avoid anything that involves bending, lifting, twisting, or strenuous activity. Some ibuprofen for the pain if necessary is alright in the short term, but do not do it on too many continuous days,” The doctor explained before heading out the door.

Roman slowly got up, really _really_ mindful of his aching and painfully pulsing side. He had no idea what all that awful poking was about if he was going to just recommend x-rays after 3 minutes. He could have spared Roman the pain and sent him right to radiology, damnit.

“We’re not suing, right?” Roman asked nervously, looking at Thomas with trepidation.

“No, we’re just filing a complaint,” Thomas said, offering his arm to help Roman down. Roman took it cautiously and slid off the exam table. Roman just stared at Thomas in confusion.

“Let’s get to the x-ray waiting room,” Thomas said, making sure Roman was stable before heading out of the exam room.

The x-rays were also awful, with all kinds of deep breaths and holding them while holding his arms upon a bar. Going to school would probably be better than this. Though they were also getting a note for him to skip gym and his missed days while they were here. And Roman was thankful for being allowed to sit out of gym class. If he had to do push-ups or sit-ups he might actually cry from pain, and that would be incredibly embarrassing and he’d definitely get made fun of. Roman sort of spaced out in the car after they left. There was a really sharp pain now instead of the dull continuous pain from all the deep breathing. He hoped that would go down if he tried not to breathe too deeply.

Roman mindlessly followed Thomas when they got out of the car, still kind of spacing out. He slid his hands in his pockets and shifted slightly when Thomas stopped and squatted down. The bottom of his right foot hurt much worse than the left and felt kind of hot, and he was trying to not put too much weight on it. Wait, why was Thomas squatting down? Roman looked at what Thomas was examining. It was a game case. When the hell did they get to a game store?

“There’s apparently 5 of those games, Roman. We can grab two while we’re here. Excuse me, Miss? We’d like to buy some DS games,” Roman stood up and waved to the lady behind the register. She stopped leaning against the counter and came over to unlock the case.

“Which ones, sir?” She asked in a very dispassionate retail-is-killing-me tone. Roman felt for her.

“The first two Rune Factory games,” Thomas supplied. “You’ve got plenty of free time today to start playing,” Thomas said brightly and followed the lady over to the counter to pay. Roman was in a lot of pain and a shell-shocked. He didn’t know what to do about this. Roman glanced down to the case. At least they were kind of cheap. Roman’s allowance could cover them. The others cost more, but he could buy them with his allowance one at a time if he really wanted them. He really just wanted something chill to focus on so he wouldn’t have to listen to his brain _all_ >night, just part of it. At least his allowance covered it. Roman followed to the counter and watched Thomas finish checking out.

“Thank you,” Roman said gratefully as Thomas handed off the bag with a smile.

“Anytime. We still have to swing by a pharmacy for some topical painkiller for your bruise and then we’ll head home. We can pick up a few other things while we’re there,” Thomas headed back out to the car and Roman followed close behind.

The pharmacy was only a few minutes away and Roman returned to following closely behind Thomas while he was shopping. They went to the food aisles after grabbing some topical painkiller that smelled terrible. He picked a Gatorade after Thomas badgered him to grab a drink. Thomas grabbed a few bags of chips, some chocolates, and a box of cookies.

“Do you need any school supplies while we’re here?” Thomas asked as they passed the office supply aisle.

“I need a blue folder and a green folder,” Roman said, turning in to the aisle.

“What is the school’s obsession with colored folders?” Thomas asked rhetorically and rolled his eyes. “Do you need any pencils or notebooks?”

“Not really,” Roman mumbled as he grabbed the two folder colors he needed. Thomas grabbed two composition notebooks and a pack of pencils, anyway.

“Just in case,” Thomas smiled. “What’s a kneaded eraser? It’s very squishy,” Thomas eyeballed a package.

“It’s an eraser you can shape and knead. The more you knead it, it gets cleaner, too. It’s for fine erasing and charcoal,” Roman supplied.

“Oh, that’s cool. Do you have one?” Thomas asked, picking up the package.

“No,” Roman replied, examining a neat journal that went through the spectrum of the rainbow depending on the angle you held it to the light.

“That’s a nice journal. Do you want to get it?” Thomas asked. Roman looked between Thomas and the journal, then tried to check the shelf. Thomas’s hand shot out and covered the tag with the basket. “No, no. Money non-withstanding. If you like it, put it in the basket. If you don’t like it and it was just shiny, put it back,” Roman started to put it back, but he had a feeling Thomas already saw right through him and sighed, sliding it in the basket beside the chips. “Thanks. That’s everything, let’s check out and head home,” Thomas smiled brightly. Roman rolled his eyes and slid his hands into his pockets as he followed Thomas to the register.

Roman continued to space out on the ride home. He kept breathing shallowly to get the pain to go back down to dull instead of stabby, and it was making Roman kind of sleepy. Thomas let Roman carry in the bag of chips, but took the other two bags of items himself as they headed inside. Thomas took them right into the kitchen and started unloading them right away. Roman went to go put the chips in the pantry. Thomas handed Roman his Gatorade and cracked open his own lemonade.

“Just for my own peace of mind, would you be willing to read or play your new game on the couch in my office?” Thomas asked, wadding up the plastic bags and putting them in a storage container on the inside of the pantry door.

“I’m _fine_ , Thomas,” Roman rolled his eyes.

“How are your arms?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow.

“Still itchy as hell,” Roman provided and Thomas raised his eyebrow. “Okay,” Roman huffed. “But can we bring in a bowl of those peanut butter pretzels?” Roman conceded and motioned to the pantry.

“A very agreeable compromise,” Thomas chuckled and pulled a bowl from the cabinet.

Roman went to go drop off the bag of school supplies in his room and grab some things. He wanted the throw for warmth. The ice packs for his bruise made him so cold. Roman’s feet really hurt, and he sat on the bed to take off his shoes. His eyes caught on his dark red sock. Oh. That’s why the right side hurt so much. Roman must have reopened a cut. He took off his other shoe and sock and examined the bottom. The bandages on the left foot were still intact and dry, though a little loose, probably from his shower. The other sock was sticking to his foot, and he tried to peel it off carefully without opening the wound worse. The bandage ripped off in the sock and Roman checked his foot. It wasn’t actively bleeding but also wasn’t exactly healed or even closed.

“Roman? What’s taking so long?” Thomas called.

“Nothing,” Roman called back, trying to figure out how to solve this without hurting his spine more.

“I’ll decide that, if that’s okay,” Thomas said, walking in the open bedroom door. “Oh. Geez. Let me grab the first aid kit. I guess we pushed it too much this afternoon. We’ll have to be more careful the next few days,” Thomas said, sounding concerned.

“No, it’s fine,” Roman tried to start and held up his hand to try to dissuade him.

“Let’s not get blood on the floor if we can help it,” Thomas said, turning back out of the bedroom. Roman didn’t think about that. Thomas came back in with the kit and Roman reached out for it. “I’ve got it,” Thomas said, waving Roman off and sitting on the floor. He cleaned off the blood patch and re-bandaged everything on both feet. Roman felt awkward and wrung his comforter idly as he waited. “Hold on, I’ll get you some new socks to help protect them. Which drawer?”

“Bottom of the dresser,” Roman pointed. Thomas pulled open the drawer and frowned, pulling out a pair of socks and scooted back over to slide them on.

“Where are all your socks?” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows.

“I haven’t done laundry yet,” Roman shrugged. Thomas eyed the bloody sock on the bed.

“Oh, hm, well, we can throw those out and get you some more socks,” Thomas offered.

“No need, I just need to soak it in hydrogen peroxide and ice water,” Roman said, getting up carefully and tossing them in the laundry basket. Thomas hummed in disapproval but didn’t say anything. Roman grabbed his things for the couch and headed downstairs with Thomas, who took Roman’s load with one arm and held out his forearm for Roman to hold. He didn’t think all this was necessary, but it hurt going upstairs and the help wouldn’t be uncalled for. He took Thomas’s arm to descend carefully.

Roman settled down on the couch in Thomas’s office and Thomas passed over his DS with an appreciative smile. Roman took it carefully and nodded to him. At least Thomas was thankful Roman was willing to humor him. The DS was actually one of the newer ones, so it had the bigger screens and an extra joystick. Roman had brought down his old wired pair of headphones to plug into it along with the bluetooth pair in case he got sick of the game music. He reached out for a pretzel bite and loaded up the game.

The start was slow, almost unbearably so, but Roman was determined to get to the monster murder part and stuck it out. Plus, the music was nice, and the characters were interesting. It really was relaxing to play, even if Roman was feeling impatient. Roman wrapped up in his throw from his bed and leaned against the arm of the couch with his feet up. When he looked up, he could see Thomas’s really focused face as he typed away at his computer. Thomas didn’t seem to acknowledge Roman staring at him, so either he didn’t care or didn’t notice. Roman went back to clearing out the farm.

“Welcome back, Virgil,” Thomas called from his desk and Roman looked up from the game to see a very sarcastic smile in the doorway, flipping him off. Virgil was in a good mood, he guessed.

‘Thomas got more chips,’ Roman signed after he put down the DS in his lap. Virgil looked excited and left the doorway immediately.

“What did you say to him?” Thomas asked curiously as Roman picked back up the DS.

“I told him about the chips,” Roman said passively, pulling out his sword and taking down some orcs.

“I worry about that kid’s sodium intake,” Thomas said with a concerned look, then turned back to his computer and went back to work. Lita joined Roman up on the couch at one point while Roman was playing. Eventually, the screen made his eyes hurt a, and he closed it up. He laid back on the couch and watched some ASL lessons on YouTube on his phone instead. He needed to learn a bit more vocabulary. And food signs. He put his phone upon his legs and signed along as guided.

Roman got through 3 videos before yawning defeated him from learning and he gave up to just watch YouTube in general, sinking further into the loveseat. There was an annoying guy who sucked at craft projects and cussed like a sailor that he couldn’t seem to stop watching. He chuckled through his nose as the guy covered his hand in fake blood from some fake injury involving sharp objects. He also watched a guy and his goth girlfriend with a killer eyeliner game try Instagram foods and take a blowtorch to donuts. Other than the ones that set on fire, they looked good. He was actually getting kind of hungry. He reached out and fruitlessly checked the bowl for any more pretzel bites. Darn. Roman glanced at the time on the wall clock, wondering if he should snack or not.

“How do you feel about take-out tonight? I’m kind of on a roll here,” Thomas asked, continuing to type. That was pretty impressive for a guy who didn’t look like he was paying any attention at all. Could he see Roman while he was working? Was he secretly psychic? He did somehow know when Roman scratched his bandages from another room yesterday.

“Um, whatever’s fine,” Roman mumbled.

“Will you find out what Virgil wants?” Thomas asked, continuing to type.

“Uh, sure,” Roman opened the texting app and messaged Virgil. “Indian or Thai,” Roman told Thomas as soon as Virgil responded.

“I should have guessed. Let’s get Thai,” Thomas said, pulling out his phone. He sent menu links to Roman, Virgil, and Patton in a group chat. Virgil replied with Tom Yum Kung pretty quickly. Roman hadn’t eaten Thai much, so he just picked Pad Thai, since it’s one he’d tried before and liked it. Thomas asked Patton to make the order and pick it up in the chat and went back to work quickly. Roman returned to watching things on YouTube. After a few videos, he realized he probably should catch up on his homework. He’d been wasting too much time today with that giant pile upstairs. Roman folded up his throw and got up.

“Hey, where are you going?” Thomas said, without moving his head or stopping. Okay, so Thomas could see him. Was this another _dad powers_ thing or did he have amazing peripheral vision? It was weird.

“Homework,” Roman said as he picked up all his things.

“No, you need a break today,” Thomas said, shaking his head.

“I took a break _yesterday_ ,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “I have stuff to do,”

“You are recovering,” Thomas said firmly.

“I’m already behind on my homework,” Roman objected.

“You were behind when you got here. Patton or I am happy to help you catch up tomorrow,” Thomas offered with a sly smile.

“I’m sorry, you’re seriously telling me _not_ to do my homework?” Roman asked incredulously.

“That’s exactly right,” Thomas nodded, looking bemused.

“Score. Then I’m getting the laptop to play Minecraft,” Roman smiled and motioned to the living room.

“That’s fine. Please walk carefully,” Thomas requested. Roman came back into Thomas’s office with the laptop and sat cross-legged with the blanket folded up in his lap to hold the laptop. He connected his headphones and loaded back up the mansion behind the waterfall creative mode he was playing the other day.

Virgil knocked on the door and Roman and Thomas looked up. Virgil pointed to Roman and Thomas looked back to his monitor.

‘What are you doing in here?’ Virgil signed to him, looking around.

‘Minecraft,’ Roman fingerspelled.

‘That’s Minecraft’ Virgil showed him the correct sign, which was just a digging motion on the palm for mine, then fingerspelling craft, which was odd. ‘But I meant in his office,’

‘Thanks. Thomas is concerned for me or whatever,’ Roman shrugged and motioned with his head to Thomas.

‘Lame,’ Virgil signed and stuck out his tongue.

‘I know,’ Roman rolled his eyes. Virgil walked away again and Roman returned to his craft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 Warnings:  
> Doctor, Examination, Bruises, Injury, Police Brutality Mention, Blood, Food


	18. local traumatized child bullied into self care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of compromises.

Another day off seemed like overkill. So what if his feet weren’t fully healed? He had a pass for gym. He only had to be on his feet for 8 or so minutes an hour other than to and from school. Roman was getting sick of being home doing absolutely nothing. He should be doing chores or homework or _something_. He was going to be so freaking behind next Monday it would hurt. Roman shifted nervously on the couch in Thomas’s office and put down his book. He’d just been staring at the page for the last minute or two, anyway. Sometimes his thoughts ran away while he was reading and there was no point in fighting it.

“You need something, Roman?” Thomas asked, not looking away from typing. Roman just grunted in response. He already knew how Thomas felt about this. There was no point in bringing it up again. They argued about it last night and this morning, too. He didn’t need anymore recovery time. “Talk to me,” Thomas looked pointedly to Roman.

“How about laundry, can I do my laundry? I’m basically out of clothes,” Roman asked, leaning back and looking at the ceiling with a huff. Thomas had to know he didn’t like being stuck in here.

“I noticed. Not that the hot pink isn’t fetching, but I’m pretty certain if it were any shorter it’d be a crop top,” Thomas said a little sourly. Roman flushed and adjusted his jacket tighter over his torso in embarrassment, still minding his bruise. Admittedly, this shirt was pretty old. He usually only wore it under his black hoodie before he grew out of it. It only cost him $2 on clearance, so maybe he should just let this one go. Roman stared at the floor for a moment, considering it. He was wearing it now, so maybe it was still good as a back up shirt. “How about a compromise?” Thomas offered. Roman looked up in confusion to see Thomas raising his eyebrow.

“What’s that?” Roman asked suspiciously.

“I’ll let you do your laundry if you let me take transport the clothes themselves and you only handle the washing parts,” Roman groaned in annoyance, but Thomas didn’t stop. “And you tell me your clothes sizes and what you like to wear so we can order you some new clothes online,” Roman groaned louder and carefully crossed his arms. His ribs still hurt like the dickens. “It’s a great compromise,” Thomas said with a small smile, and Roman huffed dramatically.

“It’s the worst compromise ever, that’s not balanced,” Roman rolled his eyes and flipped his hand dismissively.

“What’s unbalanced about it?” Thomas asked curiously, tapping the desk.

“I don’t-” Shit. Roman flushed harder and dropped his head. Another thing he and Thomas argued about. Roman thought Virgil was obstinate, but that was _nothing_ compared to what he’d been putting Thomas and Patton through. Thomas stopped typing and raised an eyebrow again. Virgil was a walk in the park compared to Roman, and Virgil had _real_ problems.

“You don’t what?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Roman said, dodging what he really felt with something that sounded nicer.

“I don’t see anything unfair about it. In fact, I can do your laundry myself and I wouldn’t find it unfair. In my opinion you shouldn’t do chores when you’re sick or recovering,” Thomas said plainly, but Roman didn’t miss that swift, meaningful look. God damnit. He was superb at this. Maybe _that’s_ what was unfair. Roman didn’t have a response, so he just looked away. “Both parties make compromises, Roman. You have to tell me what you object to so we can negotiate a better agreement,” Thomas added after the lengthy pause.

“I’m okay with you taking the laundry basket up and down the stairs,” Roman muttered, conceding a point to Thomas. He didn’t want the basket to bump his rib on the stairs, and he could live with that.

“That’s good to hear. So you don’t want to tell me what kind of clothes you want?” Thomas asked. Roman didn’t reply or look Thomas in the eye. “You’d rather shop in-store? I’m sorry, you’ve got to keep off your feet a little longer. They were bleeding again last night,” Roman motioned down at his feet.

“I know,” Roman mumbled.

“So, what’s wrong with shopping online? If we order a size up from the stuff you’re currently wearing we should be okay, and we can return everything that doesn’t fit,” Thomas said. Roman turned his head away. He hated not answering as much as he hated feeling like this. “It’s the money again, isn’t it?” Thomas asked after a moment, realizing the problem after a moment of deliberation.

“Clothes are just so expensive,” Roman grumbled, looking down to the floor.

“How about you pick out some things you like from photos, and I’ll order something like it? You’ll never have to see the price,” Thomas offered.

“There’s _still_ money being spent,” Roman sighed, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

“You will rip out of that t-shirt if you stretch, Roman. You clearly need new clothes,” Thomas motioned to Roman’s shirt.

“That would be kind of _cool_ if I could. I’m not nearly strong enough,” Roman poked his bicep absentmindedly. He never really managed a lot of muscle mass as much as he’d like to be stronger. When he was a kid, he and Remus must have been strong since they were wrestling and throwing each other at their bed or the couch almost every day. They were the same size and could both lift the other pretty easily back in the day. They threw each other around for fun all the time. But they ate really well as kids, so that possibly helped. He still had fond memories of throwing a Remus who was screeching like a drake and bouncing off a couch cushion and cackling after landing on the floor.

“So?” Thomas urged him, not letting Roman distract himself from the subject. Roman sighed and sat up straighter. He was happy to get sucked into a nice memory for once. He probably needed clothes.

“Yeah, okay. Can you just… not order too much?” Roman pleaded, looking to Thomas nervously.

“How much is too much?” Thomas asked, leaning back and watching Roman keenly.

“Fifty bucks?” Roman offered meekly.

“I’d have to find a serious clearance if that’s the case. I can try, but it’s not that realistic,” Thomas frowned and shook his head.

“… Around sixty bucks?” Roman tried again.

“We’re not accepting your allowance for clothes, just so I’m clear,” Thomas said, looking a little intense. Fuck. Okay. Roman scratched his head roughly with both hands in stress. “Hey, stop!” Thomas said loudly and Roman froze with his eyes wide. “Take a deep breath for me,” Roman slowly lowered his arms and complied.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered. He didn’t realize what he was doing until Thomas stopped him.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Are you okay with under 70 dollars of clothes? Do you think you could keep it together if I stick to that amount?” Thomas asked gently, not sounding pleased.

“Yeah, probably,” Roman said and sighed, looking straight ahead into the living room despondently.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Can you e-mail me a Pinterest board or something with styles you like?” Thomas requested and turned to his computer for a moment.

“I’ve never really looked before,” Roman said uncertainly. He always just bought off the clearance rack or took whatever his foster parents chose for him.

“How about you just tell me things you like in clothes and then I can help you narrow it down?” Thomas asked, motioning the concept with his hands.

“I’ve distracted you enough from work as it is,” Roman objected, leaning back again.

“I’m taking a break like healthy people should do periodically through the day,” Thomas said. Roman wasn’t sure, but he may have gotten roasted? The _audacity_. It was ridiculous to him that he was taking all this time off when he was the one who fucked up.

“Okay. Um. Soft material. Not too tight. Stuff that breathes. No shorts,” Roman suggested, listing off things he preferred.

“Like athletic wear?” Thomas tried to clarify.

“Sure, as long as it’s not too loose or scratchy. I like the room to move in things but I don’t like lots of extra material,” Roman explained, and it felt like he was explaining it poorly. Thomas nodded, though.

“I think just buying clothes that actually _fit_ will solve that problem. Do you have a shirt cut you like?” Thomas continued questioning.

“V-neck or low. Not crew, please, I don’t like things touching my neck. Um, fitted, I guess. I like wearing jackets since they keep the school so cold,” Roman said nervously. He didn’t like admitting he had such an easy to take advantage of weakness, but he hoped Thomas wouldn’t utilize it or spread it. If Thomas wasted money on clothes Roman couldn’t stomach putting on he’d feel much worse than he already did.

“That explains why some of your shirt collars are stretched out,” Thomas muttered under his breath. “What about colors?” Thomas asked, sounding much more interested.

“Oh, um… Red’s my favourite color, but I’m not particularly against any color that isn’t like puke brown. I like bright tops and dark bottoms, if I had to be specific. Easier to clean,” Roman said.

“Do you like any clothing styles? Like Virgil enjoys more emo styles and Patton likes to dress preppier?”

“I’ve never worn anything but generic stuff. But I like something that looks put-together. Not like suit-and-tie fancy, but maybe… I don’t know how to explain it…” Roman trailed off. “Cool, but not in your face about it?”

“Like you’re maybe a YA protagonist?” Thomas suggested with a small grin.

“Yeah!” Roman said excitedly. “Like I’m going to save the world or something,” Roman smiled lightly and his brain wandered off for a moment with ideas.

“Sure, I can work with that. Probably nothing too flashy, right?” Thomas asked, yanking him back to reality quickly. Thomas looked pretty pleased for some reason.

“No, I don’t need _more_ reasons to be bullied,” Roman said dourly.

“Noted,” Thomas said warily. “Do you think you could give me a little more leeway on the money? So I can get you a jacket that maybe implies you’re leading a rebellion?” Thomas asked carefully, but the way he described the potential jacket was very tempting.

“That would be-” Roman started automatically replying with excitement and cut himself off. Wait, shit, money, fuck, no-

“Drop your hands, Roman,” Thomas said firmly. Roman looked to them, not realizing he’d raised them again, and dropped them to grip the couch, feeling embarrassed.

“I promise I’ll keep it a reasonable amount, just a little extra money to buy another jacket,” Thomas offered. “If you say no, I won’t buy anything else other than the essentials,” Thomas added, sounding very considerate. Roman swallowed. It would make Thomas happy, right? Roman has been doing nothing but pissing him off for days. Roman doesn’t deserve any of this, but Thomas doesn’t deserve to be pissed off more, either. This trashfire of a situation was conflicting.

“If… yeah, okay. Another jacket is okay,” Roman conceded quietly, still holding the couch cushions tightly.

“Hold on a sec, keep gripping those cushions,” Thomas said, getting up from his desk, looking like an idea struck him. Roman looked at him in confusion, and Thomas left the room. He came back a minute later with a pair of thin leather gloves and tossed them at Roman. “If you put those on, I’ll let you play games on the TV,” Thomas said, sounding proud of himself.

“You’re kidding,” Roman mumbled, picking up the gloves slowly.

“I’ll feel better,” Thomas said, almost airily. Roman slid them on. “If I had to guess you’re too distracted to read, but that game you were playing the other day is good at keeping your attention. And I don’t want you to accidentally see me shopping and get concerned. We’ll deal with making sure you’re okay when it gets here. I don’t want you obsessing over it,” Thomas said. “I’ll keep an eye on the clock for you, so you can just focus on playing the game,” That would be cool. He still felt like shit about taking all this time off and then Thomas buying him more stuff. But Thomas was right that he didn’t think he could manage to read anymore, and maybe he’d freak out if just watched TV.

“Can we do that compromise thing? Y’know, again?” Roman asked wearily.

“What do you propose?” Thomas leaned back in his desk chair.

“You let me do some homework later, so I can feel better about playing video games when I have so much to do?” Roman requested nervously.

“Would you be willing to accept help with it? I’ve seen all the chewed up pencils in your room,” Thomas suggested, looking interested in the opportunity.

“I guess?” Roman agreed, a little confused. Roman was just dumb and nervous. A little help probably wouldn’t change much. They’d probably get sick of trying quickly, like most others. But as long as they didn’t rub in how bad at homework he was, Roman didn’t mind.

“All right, I’m okay with that,” Thomas held out his arm and helped Roman up off the couch. He didn’t like being babied like this, but his feet hurt. The gash on his right foot didn’t like to stay closed if Roman wasn’t super careful. He must have stepped on a broken beer bottle or something. Thomas helped Roman to the living room and sat down on the couch, letting Roman finish setting things up and sit down on his own. Thomas chucked the afghan at him as the game was loading up, and Roman wrapped it around his shoulders.

Roman wasn’t sure for how long Thomas watched him, but he did eventually leave back to work in his office with the door open after a trip upstairs for something. Roman appreciated being given the space. He hadn’t gotten much since Wednesday. It was basically just at bed time he was left alone. And he sometimes spiraled at bedtime and probably wouldn’t mind someone there telling him it’d be fine and he didn’t need to run into the night. Not that Roman believed people when they said that, or anything, but he wouldn’t _mind_ it. But being alone was better than Thomas sitting there watching while he waited for Roman to fall asleep or something. And if Roman hurt himself again, Thomas _might_. He was very on-edge about it. Which Roman couldn’t decide if that was kind of nice of him or annoying? He had been leaning towards annoying, but with the living room to himself and a sword in hand he was much less dissatisfied. He happily quested on in the game and got sucked up into it.

“Roman?” Thomas tried to get his attention, but Roman was busy fighting off a demon bear and didn’t look.

“Hm?” Roman made a noise of acknowledgment but barely noticed Thomas’s presence.

“Roman. I need you to pause it,” Thomas said firmly. Roman huffed and got one more hit in before pausing the game.

“Yeah?” Roman looked to Thomas, leaning back towards feeling like this was annoying. “I haven’t taken the gloves off or my hands off the controller, I swear,” Roman said, showing Thomas his still glove-clad hands.

“No, this isn’t about that. Though, that’s comforting to hear. That was the doctor’s office calling. They got back to me with your results. You _do_ have a fracture on your ribs,” Thomas said, sounding a little unsettled. Roman didn't remember hearing the phone ring, but he wasn't surprised at the news. The pain was pretty familiar at this point.

“Oh. Um, what does that mean?” Roman asked nervously.

“Well, we’ll need to make a few lifestyle changes. Start taking vitamins with breakfast, sleeping on your back, and not your side, and there’s a 6-week checkup. There’s also some exercises you’ll have to do after it’s less painful,” Thomas listed off the things.

“Um, all right,” Roman swallowed nervously. He rolled a lot in his sleep. He was very aware of this fact because it hurt like a bitch and kept waking him up, lately. The other stuff didn’t sound so bad, but he was scared of fucking up that in particular. He had no qualms with vitamins or exercises, and if Thomas stayed with him at the doctor’s again he could put up with it.

“I asked, and you can’t run, so you’ll have to hold off on joining that club until you’re cleared for strenuous exercise again. If you want to walk Lita after your feet heal, you’ll also have to actually walk,” Thomas finished. He wasn’t going to join that club anyway, so it wasn’t really a major loss. Causing them even more trouble after the giant mess he made was not happening if Roman could possibly stop it.

“Oh, well, that’s a bummer. I kinda like going for a run with her,” Roman said, feeling disappointed. He enjoyed sprinting with that little speed demon and watching her little tongue bob while she attempted the break the sound barrier.

“With some effort, it won’t be that long until you can again. I’ll try to pick up the slack and get faster so she doesn’t get mad,” Thomas chuckled slightly. “The muffins I made earlier are now a safe temperature to eat,” He added offhandedly.

“You made muffins?” Roman asked curiously. Thomas paused for a moment, considering Roman.

“I made them while you’re playing. They’re chocolate chip if you want one,” Thomas said offered, looking bemused.

“I, uh, now that I smell them, they smell amazing,” Roman said kind of sheepishly. The game must have sucked him in hardcore to not smell the chocolate and cinnamon in the air until now.

“I’ll get you one with some milk,” Thomas said, heading into the kitchen. Thomas came back with the muffin on a little plate and a small glass of milk. Roman looked nervously at Thomas while he took the plate. He had done nothing all day. He didn’t earn anything, especially not treats. But it smelled good, and Thomas watched him expectantly. He didn’t want to push it again. Roman took a bite of the muffin. It was still warm, so the chocolate was melty and wonderful. Roman ate it probably a little too fast and downed his milk.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Thomas chuckled and took Roman’s dishes. “You can go back to playing now. Thanks for taking the news in stride,” Thomas beamed proudly. “Try not to slouch,” Thomas said cheerily and waved as he retreated to the kitchen. Roman took as deep a breath as he could manage without hurting himself, straightened his back, and unpaused the game. He was having trouble focusing on it, though, as hard as he tried.

It was a great muffin. He did nothing to get such a great muffin. Maybe he could do something later to make himself feel better? Roman leaned back slightly. Thomas waved at him with a small smile as he sat back at his desk. Thomas was definitely, absolutely watching. Thomas was clear he didn’t want Roman to do anything. But that just didn’t sit right with Roman.

The muffin sat on his stomach oddly, and he felt sick. Roman knew it wasn’t really the muffin, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t even manage to do something like eating without fucking it up. Roman sighed and paused the game again, setting the controller down. He slowly moved to get up. Thomas hopped up and was at his side in a second, and Roman begrudgingly took the help.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked. Roman closed his eyes and breathed.

“Yeah,” Roman said softly. “Bathroom,” Thomas helped Roman over to the downstairs restroom, and he walked in and shut the door behind him. Roman turned on the water and just watched it run for a moment before splashing water on his face. He shut the water off and gripped the countertop, watching water from his face drip into the drain. He suddenly felt exhausted. And standing on his feet hurt. Roman pat his face dry and came back out of the bathroom. Thomas walked back over to him and helped him over to the game controller again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking kind of pale,” Thomas said, looking at Roman with concern.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered.

“Yeah, you _agree_ you’re looking pale? Let me help you lie down on the couch instead,” Thomas offered and pivoted.

“Okay,” Roman whispered. Thomas helped him over to the couch and Roman laid down with no argument. Thomas draped the afghan over him from the floor.

“I’ll save and quit this for you,” Thomas said and picked up the controller off the floor. “Do you want to watch something? Virgil will be home soon, maybe there’s something you can watch together,” Thomas suggested gently.

“You don’t have to bother him. I’ll keep the gloves on and stuff,” Roman said quietly. Thomas finished and put the controller up and came over to touch Roman’s forehead with the back of his palm.

“You’re kind of clammy, Roman,” Thomas said. “Let me get you a thicker blanket,” Thomas turned around quickly and opened up an ottoman against the wall, and he pulled out a large quilt and layered it over the afghan. Roman grabbed the edge and blinked slowly. Roman was just so sick of himself. Thomas passed Roman the remote, but Roman didn’t take it, shaking his head slightly. He just felt so done with everything. His eyes got kind of heavy and Roman exhaled slowly. He didn’t realize he was so tired. Tired of his shit? Tired of himself? Or did he just sleep like shit again? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he hurt, and closing his eyes sounded nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18 Warnings:  
> Food, Food issues, Injury, Money Issues, Panic, Anxiety, Depression  
> Pretty standard chapter warnings, really.


	19. local teen actually makes one of those viral meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman learns a bit about grounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra tw in end notes, but nothing new

Roman woke up to canned laughter on TV. Virgil was watching the old black-and-white Addams Family show. It surprised Roman it wasn’t too campy for Virgil even if it was clearly his style. Virgil perched on the couch arm on the other end of the couch on his phone, but he was looking up to the show more than his phone. Roman didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep. Probably because he’s still sleeping like shit. Maybe it caught up to him. Maybe he was just sick enough of everything that his brain finally gave up. If only that power could be utilized at _night_. He was mad he had to wake up, though. He wanted to stay asleep forever. But he may as well be here to suffer just the same. Just staying asleep was probably too good for him, anyway. Roman rubbed his face, forgetting about the gloves. They pulled at his skin a bit. Whatever.

Roman exhaled and stared ahead. He was feeling kind of numb. Out of energy? Out of fucks to give? His brain’s finally given up on him? Why didn’t really matter. It didn’t feel like much mattered. Stuff probably did. He had to remember there were things that did. It was something that is caseworker told him to do; he remembered that. When it felt like nothing mattered, he had to make things matter again. It was hard, though. Lita was curled up at his feet. Lita mattered. He couldn’t run with her anymore, but that didn’t matter. The Sanders mattered. They were nice. He felt like a burden on the Sanders, but maybe he could make that thing not matter. Nope, it mattered that he was an awful burden still. Remus mattered. That was always something Roman could hold on to.

Oh, oh! It was Friday. Friday meant that maybe Mr. Hartley might have a way to contact Remus. That mattered. That mattered so much. Roman shifted as much as he could without twisting his torso to check the clock. There was still a while to go. Roman sighed and settled back down on to the couch. Why can’t he just go back to sleep?

“Ah, nice to you, bright eyes. You’re looking slightly less pale,” Thomas said, leaning over the top of the couch.

“Hey,” Roman said weakly and waved, barely glancing at Thomas.

“Still not feeling great?” Thomas asked. Roman shrugged, he wasn’t feeling much of anything. “It’d be really helpful if you told me how you were doing,” Thomas said patiently.

“I don’t feel anything,” Roman supplied. “So, y’know,” Roman shrugged again. Thomas looked concerned at him for a moment.

“How are your ribs?” Thomas asked. Roman still didn’t know, so just tilted his head and made a dismissive motion with his hands. “How about I help you in to the backyard? You can play fetch with Lita and get a little sun. You’ve been cooped up too long,” Thomas offered. Roman blinked a few times, processing that.

“Whatever,” Roman conceded. He supposed he didn’t really care where he was.

“Virgil, could you reach around and knock on the window when Patton comes in?” Thomas looked over to Virgil, who nodded after a pause. “Thanks,” Thomas came around the couch and helped Roman up. His body really didn’t want to move, it seemed, since he felt stiff and creaky, but the more he moved the easier it was.

Thomas helped Roman on to a chaise lounge in the backyard. Roman stared ahead to the fence and the garden in the back. He heard Lita’s dog tags jingle, and she excitedly shoved her nose into Roman’s dangling palm. Roman pet her head idly for a moment until she started running around the yard. Roman’s eyes followed her around the backyard until she ran up with a tennis ball. He took it and threw it kind of weakly, but she barked and chased after it all the same.

“It’s nice outside, isn’t it?” Thomas commented.

“Hm?” Roman made a noise, not really following what Thomas said for a moment. Then he processed it and noticed the temperature. It was nice and warm with a little breeze. “Yeah,” Roman agreed. Lita ran back up with the ball and Roman threw it a little better this time.

“If you could do anything, what would you pick to do right now?” Thomas asked, leaning against the house.

“See Remus,” Roman shrugged.

“We’ll see what your social worker says. What would you do with Remus if you had all the time and resources in the world?” Thomas leaned against the top of the chaise lounge.

“Roller coasters. Maybe a water park,” Roman responded after a pause.

“Do you like theme parks?” Thomas asked. What was this, 20 questions? Lita made a lap around the yard again.

“They sound fun,” Roman said dismissively.

“Have you ever been to a theme park?” Thomas watched Lita run in circles and trip over her own leg with a chuckle.

“No, I’ve just heard about them in school,” Roman shook his head. “I’ve been to a pool that had a giant slide and that was fun, so I bet roller coasters are, too. Remus likes heights and jumping off of stuff. Liked, I guess. I guess I don’t know what he likes anymore,” Roman said a little dourly.

“Did you jump off things a lot when you were younger?” Thomas asked lightly.

“All the time. Mom always got so mad at us,” Roman laughed weakly.

“When did you last seem him?” Thomas asked, leaning against the chaise lounge.

“The first family we were with was the only one willing to take two kids. They split us up after they kicked us back for being too much,” Roman explained.

“You haven’t even gotten to visit him since they separated you?” Thomas sounded concerned.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered and wrung his fingers a bit. “It was never a priority. Or they broke their promises. Or it was too far. Or it was too much effort. Blood relations aren’t important. I didn’t earn it. I’m not worth it. I’ve heard a lot of reasons. I stopped asking. We used to talk on the phone before I wasn’t allowed to use phones anymore,” Roman watched the breeze ruffle the leaves. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. What’s a hobby that sounds awesome to try?” Thomas changed subjects. Maybe it _was_ 20 questions.

“Um. I don’t know,” Roman said honestly. Open-ended questions were always hard for him.

“What stuff do you like?” Thomas leaned down and picked up the tennis ball Lita dropped too far away for Roman to reach and handed it off to Roman to throw again. Roman chucked it farther this time and Lita went wild chasing it, nearly ramming into the fence.

“Art… and doing stuff with my hands or things that are active, I guess,” Roman said after a lengthy pause of strained consideration.

“What stuff are you good at?” Thomas asked. Roman froze. There was a knock on the window. Saved by Virgil. Thank god, he nearly said ‘fucking up’. Roman blinked and shook his head for a moment in sheer relief.

“Patton’s here,” Roman provided, pointing to the door.

“Keep your gloves on, please,” Thomas said and went back inside. Lita came happily trotting up again and hopped up and panted happily on his lap. Roman smiled slightly and pet her. He tried to scratch behind her ears, but with the gloves, it was more like weird rubbing, so he stuck to petting. Patton came out on to a patio munching on a muffin a few minutes later.

“Hey kiddo!” Patton smiled brightly.

“Hey,” Roman waved slightly and kept petting Lita.

“Feeling kind of out of it, huh?” Patton asked, walking up to Roman.

“Kinda,” Roman stared at the sky. He was a little more here than earlier, but still kinda… eh.

“You want to come sit in the grass with me?” Patton asked, holding out his hand. Roman looked to Patton and took his hand. Lita jumped off his lap, and they walked off the patio into the yard. “You can take off those snazzy gloves,” Roman slipped them off and Patton helped Roman down into the grass. They both sat there quietly for a moment. Feeling the grass was actually pretty nice after wearing those gloves all day. “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Um, I read in Thomas’s office and played games. Sorry,” Roman muttered and trailed off.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, you were doing what we asked you to do. Thomas said you wanted to do some homework. Did you want to work on it together after dinner?” Patton said sympathetically.

“I’ve, uh, got it,” Roman muttered.

“We asked you to take a break so we should help you catch up, it’s only fair. I swung by the school to pick up the rest of your homework for this week,” Patton said.

“Oh, goody,” Roman deadpanned and Patton chuckled.

“What kind of food do you like? You don’t normally say you want anything specific,” Patton asked, leaning forward on his hands in the grass.

“I’m really not picky,” Roman shrugged and worried a blade of grass between his fingers.

“I’m just wondering if you have a favourite food,” Patton said, tilting his head and looking over hopefully to Roman.

“Not really,” Roman shook his head.

“So, what would be your last meal if you got to pick one?” Patton asked, holding up a finger.

“Something fancy, probably. Lobster is fancy, right?” Roman picked at a grass blade that came off between his fingers.

“So there're no foods that make you excited?” Patton asked curiously. Roman shook his head. Not anymore, anyway. “Maybe we need to find your new favourite food, then! We can try out fun recipes online,” Patton offered.

“You don’t have to do an effort for me, I’ll eat whatever,” Roman held up the grass blade he was picking at and released it to the breeze.

“I know you’ll eat ‘whatever’, but it’s fun to try new foods! I was trying to pick what to make for dinner tonight,” Patton explained.

“Virgil usually has a preference, you could ask him,” Roman motioned with his thumb towards the house.

“He normally does,” Patton chuckled in agreement. Roman considered what he thought Virgil might like for a moment and got an idea.

“I saw this recipe for enchilada lasagna he might like. Us mortals should be able to eat it with sour cream,” Roman offered. Plus, he was curious if any of those foods in the videos he’d been watching lately were any good or if they were just for show.

“Oh, it’s a spicy one?” Patton snickered curiously.

“Not inedible. He’ll probably still want to put hot sauce on it,” Roman mimed using a hot sauce bottle, with a slight grin.

“Let’s go see if we have ingredients for it. I’m not sure about enchilada sauce,” Patton said, sounding like he was thinking hard.

“My grandmother would yell at me from beyond the grave if I used canned enchilada sauce when it’s cheaper to buy tomato sauce,” Roman laughed, moving to get up.

“Oh, did you used to cook with her?” Patton scrambled up quickly to help Roman take the pressure off his feet.

“She watched us often,” Roman said dismissively.

“Was your grandmother the one who taught you how to cook?” Patton held open the door for Roman to head back inside.

“My mom and grandmother both learned quickly it was better to keep us busy, so we helped them cook often. We were too young for lots of it, though, I finished learning at the library,” Roman said, the pair of them heading into the kitchen.

“That’s very proactive of you! So, what do we need for this?” Patton asked as they entered the kitchen.

“Enchilada stuff. Meat, black beans, cheese, tortillas, onion, peppers, bell peppers, tomato sauce,” Roman supplied.

“Oh, sorry kiddo, we don’t have tortillas,” Patton frowned.

“They’re flour and water. Do you not have flour and water?” Roman smirked, leaning into the vegetable drawer in the fridge.

“Oh, really?” Patton said curiously, digging in the pantry.

“What meat do you want to use?” Roman asked as he procured the needed vegetables.

“What do you think is best?” Patton asked.

“Chicken thighs, probably,” Roman pulled that out from the meat drawer as well. “Do you have canned peppers? There’s none in here,” Roman stuck his head out of the fridge to ask Patton.

“We do, I’ll get them,” Patton said and withdrew a few cans and brought them to the counter. “Grandma won’t be mad about canned peppers?”

“My grandmother grew her own peppers, but she supports the use of canned,” Roman smiled fondly. “Whatever was cheapest was the best option. She was on a fixed income. She planted seeds from the ones she got from a friend. She was always proud of her ‘stolen garden’,” Roman put the things from the fridge on the counter.

“Wow, your grandma was awesome,” Patton smiled.

“She was determined,” Roman dug around on the spice shelf for the spices they’d need.

“So are you! Let's get you a chair so you can get off your feet,” Patton said, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and putting it next to Roman.

“What’s first?” Patton asked brightly.

“Seasoning the chicken,” Roman provided. He kneeled on the chair so he could still reach the counter but get off his feet. They were already hurting. Patton let Roman do most of the cooking. It was understandable, he didn’t know the seasonings and only Roman knew how to make tortillas. But he ran around the kitchen getting Roman things and chopped up the vegetables to he could make them. He even let Roman cook the filling, which he could have taken over for. But Roman really liked being able to do _something_ after doing _nothing_ for days, so he said nothing, even when his knees got kind of sore.

Roman sat down on a kitchen chair in with an exhausted exhale after Patton slid it in the oven to finish cooking. Roman leaned forward on the table tiredly, hoping the monstrosity would taste good. Patton sat down with him with an odd-looking smile.

“It smells amazing in here. I’m sure you did your grandma proud,” Patton said brightly.

“I’m pretty certain she would say this is an _abomination_ , actually, but she’d laugh while she said it before ranting about how deeply and horrifically wrong it is,” Roman smiled and shook his head. He was acutely aware of how wrong this ‘meal’ was, too. But the morbid curiosity about Virgil’s capacity to eat garbage was louder than his good sense. The ingredients were all good, so it was relatively low risk, dinner wise. Unless they got mad at him for making garbage food, maybe. God, did his knees hurt after all that kneeling. He stretched them carefully under the kitchen table. “She always liked what we did, even if it was terrible. She had crayon drawings from when I was 3 framed on the wall.”

“She sounds very sweet,” Patton smiled softly.

“You would have probably gotten along with her,” Roman leaned on the table. “Are your grandparents still alive?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m afraid they wouldn’t get along with your grandma, though,” Patton said pensively.

“How do you mean?” Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

“They’re just very old fashioned,” Patton said dismissively. “Would you like some orange juice? You’ve got to be a little hot from all the cooking,” Patton said, getting back up.

“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” Roman mumbled as he continued to stretch his legs under the table. Patton grabbed Roman a glass of orange juice before pulling out dishes to set the table. “Sorry for having you do all this stuff for me,” Roman apologized quietly.

“I offered, and I’m doing it because _I_ want to,” Patton smiled and started setting out dishes. Roman sipped his orange juice and watched Patton as he set out the dishes. “Are you feeling less out of it?” He eyed Roman with interest.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Roman said, not realizing it until now. “Thanks, I think?”

“You came back yourself, there, champ. I just helped show you how,” Patton winked.

“Is hanging out in the grass and making dinner really how to do it?” Roman asked, leaning on his hands and tilting his head.

“You just needed some grounding. You’ve probably been thinking lots about the past and getting stuck there. Grass, sunshine, chatting, and making dinner just helped pull you back to the present,” Patton smiled softly.

“How do you know so much about this stuff? Aren’t you an animal doctor and not a people doctor?” Roman asked curiously, stroking the perspiration on the glass.

“I was in therapy for a long time, kiddo. It really helped me out when I was in a bad place. My therapist gave me lots of tools to help focus on the present and being a good person,” Patton said, leaning forward.

“Does it have something to do with why my grandmother wouldn’t like your grandparents?” Roman asked carefully.

“You’re a sharp kid. But you’ve got plenty on your plate right now. I think it’s better for you to focus on good things at the moment since you’ve been struggling lately. Like the enchilada abomination in the oven!” Patton chuckled, motioning to the oven.

“A-, uh, my grandmother-” Roman caught himself. “-would _really_ like you. Maybe she’ll come to make fun of this freak feast on November first,” Roman smirked at the folly of man in the oven.

“Do you celebrate the day of the dead?” Patton perked up.

“She did. Mom kind of did. I’ve never really done it without her. Dad didn’t like it. I just think if anyone would visit, it would be her, I guess. I know it’s kind of dumb. Really dumb. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Roman mumbled and nervously fidgeted with his hands.

“Stop right there, kiddo. It’s not dumb. It’s okay to miss your grandma and hope she visits. Nobody else has the right to tell you your dumb for your beliefs, okay? If you want to set up something on November first, I’m happy to support you. Maybe Virgil wants to join. If I remember correctly his dad was from Mexico. Even if he doesn’t, there’s no harm in trying, just because it reminds you of her,” Patton reassured him. Roman nodded silently.

“Patton, will you be honest with me?” Roman asked after a pause, nervously picking at his nails.

“Of course I will,” Patton nodded and looked a little nervous, but smiled nonetheless.

“Would you rather have gotten someone else less fucked up? Are you just settling on me because it’s the nice thing to do?” Roman asked quietly.

“Roman, please don’t use the F word. I don’t like that language,” Patton frowned.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, dropping his head.

“I’m not settling on you, Roman. Thomas and I went going into this ready to love and support anyone who came to us. I think you’re a great kid and I think we get along just fine. I’m sorry if my emotional reactions scared you or made you think I didn’t think you were worth it. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with stuff that hits so close to home for me,” Patton admitted.

“You didn’t also sell drugs, did you?” Roman asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Patton.

“ _No_! No, I just didn’t have a great time with my grandparents and there wasn’t anybody to stand up for me,” Patton explained, shaking his hands. “I was upset about it not seeming like anybody ever stood up for you, because you keep blaming yourself for things that objectively don’t need blame taken for. I freaked out because in a _million years_ I never expected to hear about a teenager making drug deliveries because his guardians refused to take care of him. Especially about such a sensitive kid like you who always tries to put other people’s feelings first,” He motioned to Roman.

“I, uh… sorry. But I started running for Jet at 12,” Roman muttered. Patton’s eyes widened and he kind of looked like he wanted to scream, but he didn’t move or make a sound. Roman still leaned away nervously. “Sorry. I was 13 when the Halls… uh,” Roman paused. Patton took a deep breath.

“If you want to say it, you can,” Patton said, taking a deep breath.

“This, um, maybe ‘hits close to home’,” Roman rubbed his arm. “Um, it was about wanting more money from us and it got so bad my caseworker was fired. Jet’s might have, too. I never called him to find out. I kinda took the excuse to cut ties. After things got bad he got bad, too. I don’t blame him or anything, but still…” Roman trailed off.

“Do you still have his number?” Patton asked curiously, looking less like he would scream, but now and much more sad.

“Um… yeah. Just in case I needed to make some fast money. It was a burner, so the number is probably long since disconnected from him. It’s more of a reminder now. I can’t bring myself to throw it away,” Roman admitted, not able to meet Patton’s eyes.

“As long as you’re not using it to hurt yourself, I suppose,” Patton muttered, not sounding like he actually believed what he said.

“Sure, I won’t give myself a paper cut with it or whatever,” Roman said, kind of baffled by the implications.

“No, I mean looking at it to remind yourself that in a time of desperation you did something you didn’t want to do and judge yourself harshly for your choices,” Patton explained.

“Uh, yeah,” Roman said meekly. Patton’s lips tightened, and he hummed suspiciously.

“When you’re a kid and you make bad choices, it’s important that you learn from them but you can’t hate yourself for them. When you’re young, you don’t have a lot of resources and you don’t have all the information. Parents are supposed to protect you from all that stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised Jet made it seem like it was harmless at first. He was older than you and offering help, so wanting to trust him was natural. Nobody was there to take you, or even Jet, out of that situation, and that wasn’t your fault. That was your guardian’s fault, full stop. You should never have been in that situation in the first place and you can’t blame yourself for what you did while trying to survive if you really were trying not to hurt people. And I can’t imagine you did, kiddo. I just don’t see it in you,” Patton said firmly, and Roman could barely take hearing it.

“Pat, dude, it’s not going to look good for you if I’m crying when Mr. Hartley gets here,” Roman joked while sniffling. He rubbed his eyes and put his head down on the table.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but I think you needed to hear it,” Patton said. “Do you want…” Patton paused and Roman nodded into his arms on the table. Patton got up from the table and put his arm around Roman while he tried to pull himself together. The oven timer went off and Patton let go with after lightly rubbing his back to go pull the monstrosity out of the oven. Roman sipped his OJ and wiped the tears threatening to escape again. Virgil walked into the kitchen and looked oddly at Roman for a moment.

‘Smells awesome. But what the fuck?’ Virgil signed.

‘Patton was being an asshole,’ Roman signed back with a weak smirk.

‘I always knew it,’ Virgil side-eyed Patton facetiously. ‘Seriously, you okay?’

‘No,’ Roman signed and shrugged.

‘Valid,’ Virgil fingerspelled. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘An abomination unto god,’ Roman fingerspelled slowly. Virgil’s smirk widened into a mischievous grin.

‘I always wanted to eat an unholy abomination,’ Virgil signed back and sat at the table next to Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18 Warnings:  
> Depression, Dissociation, Abuse reference, Drug Trafficking Reference, Food, Horrible Internet Recipes


	20. inquiry: why is the bar for decent parents so low?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Roman go for a drive and have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in endnotes  
> warning: poor roman

“I’m so glad Mr. Hartley could find your brother and put us on the approved visitor list. It sounds like he had to pull a lot of strings to do it,” Patton flashed a smile quickly to Roman before looking back at the road. Roman fidgeted lightly with his hands and watched the road for a moment. He was still worried and was tired as shit for having to wake up early to drive out there for the visiting hours. Well, it was only a little early for the Sanders house but Roman still was the worst at sleeping. Especially when he knew he was going to finally see his brother the next day.

“Thanks again for being willing to drive me out,” Roman mumbled and curled into his jacket a bit. “You really don’t think he’ll be mad at me for not calling and stuff?” Roman asked nervously, glancing at Patton. Patton kept his eyes on the road.

“I think if you explain what happened he’ll probably understand,” Patton said plainly. That didn’t particularly inspire confidence in Roman. He side-eyed Patton for a moment, but Patton added nothing else.

“Hm, I’m hearing a _maybe_ ,” Roman said seriously, tugging at his seat belt to shift it away from his cracked rib again.

“Well, I can’t see everything, kiddo,” Patton smiled knowingly for someone saying he _didn’t_ know. “But he’s your brother, and that didn’t go away with distance,” Roman hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing. He wanted to believe Remus wouldn’t hate him. He just also had a ‘wildly miscalibrated’ sense of whether or not people hate him, according to Thomas. But even if his sense is off, it was a loud one and he didn’t know how to ignore it. Roman yawned and leaned back the seat a little, watching the road again.

“I know this is early for you. I can put the radio on classical or something and you can take a nap. The weekend visiting hours are offensively short and early,” Patton muttered bitterly. “You should be able to visit your kids and siblings all day on the weekend, not between 8 and 10 am. Who do they think they are? The state prison has better visiting hours!” Patton started ranting in frustration.

“I’m a 15-year-old felon, I can’t answer these questions,” Roman rubbed his head. It kind of hurt from Pat’s rambling. Or the lack of sleep. Or the knowledge there will be guards there. Or the roiling fear in him that Remus hated him now, and that he had every right to as someone in juvie while Roman had such a nice place to stay. Maybe there were lots of reasons his head could hurt.

“You’re not a felon, kiddo,” Patton furrowed his eyebrows, looking miffed. Roman just crossed his arms lightly and raised his eyebrow. “Well, not a _convicted_ felon, anyway,” Patton trailed off slightly. “Let’s not bring up the whole _drug trafficking_ thing at the JDC,” Patton chuckled nervously, shooting a look at Roman.

“Yeah, I definitely tell _everybody_ about my crimes,” Roman’s tone was dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. “Thomas says I thought I was dead. That’s basically the only circumstance I _ever_ planned to tell anyone,” Roman huffed angrily, though it was entirely at himself for letting it slip. He really didn’t like anybody knowing about it. Though Virgil was chill about it. At least that was something. Patton and Thomas, on the other hand? Roman wasn’t sure they _had_ chill anymore.

“I suppose we should avoid panic attacks, then,” Patton said, sounding concerned and tapping his steering wheel with his fingers as he steered.

“ _Sure_ , I’ll turn off the panic switch,” Roman flipped his hand and mimed toggling a switch sarcastically. He looked out the passenger window, gripping his seatbelt in his hands both as something grounding but to keep it off his ribs again.

“Young man, I understand you’re scared and tired, but maybe turn down the sarcasm a notch,” Patton said seriously. Roman huffed indignantly, but sighed and dropped his arms after a moment.

“Sorry,” Roman mumbled and fiddled with his jeans.

“I don’t think marijuana charges should be a thing in the first place, by the way. I don’t think that in a just world you’d be a felon,” Patton said, consolingly. Roman winced and looked to Patton for a moment, deciding if he should correct him or not.

“You like honesty, right?” Roman sighed, looking over to Patton nervously. He may as well get this over with.

“Yes, I do! But I don’t like the sound of that question. Not in the context of this conversation, anyway,” Patton said nervously and gripped the steering wheel as if to brace himself.

“I guess because it’s hard to picture a teenager dealing anything harder than weed, or something? But there’s a reason I said drugs. It _was_ just weed… at first. It… didn’t stay that way. _Expenses_ went up. And it went from some very nice engineers who grew it outside of town to real mafia-type drug suppliers. That’s how the whole having guns pointed at me thing happened. We were kind of in over our heads, honestly. I was just making deliveries to white guys in flip-flops who’d tip well if I did magic tricks for them, other than visiting the engineers. It wasn’t that bad,” Roman swallowed. “Then it got worse, and I had to carry a gun just to protect myself and… it just wasn’t good. I’d still be a felon in a more just world,” Roman confessed quietly.

“You didn’t have to _use_ the gun, did you, kiddo?” Patton asked, sounding deeply troubled and gripping the steering wheel enough to make his knuckles pale.

Roman held himself and swallowed heavily. “Can we not talk about this?” Roman mumbled, hating to have to remember this part. Hating himself for ever having to do it. Roman gripped his seatbelt again, unable to deal and trying to focus on literally anything else. Like the texture of the seat-belt strap and how it was weirdly sharp feeling or the signs through the window.

“I think we might need to,” Patton said carefully, but he was clearly holding back something by the expression on his face.

“First shot’s a warning shot. Second shot was to the legs,” Roman muttered. “That’s… that’s all I’m willing to say about it,” Roman said weakly, trying his damnedest not to remember.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re seeing a psychiatrist,” Patton swallowed. “I’m impressed at how strong you are to carry this guilt for so long, champ. At least you never intended to hurt anybody, right?” Patton said as evenly as Roman assumed as he could manage. He didn’t sound so sure that Roman never wanted to, though, and Roman felt like a dirtbag for it.

“No, I didn’t _wake up_ thinking ‘I’m going to shoot some guy today’,” Roman said sarcastically. “I already know I’m not a good person. You don’t have to try to make excuses for me,” He added weakly and stared at his feet as the seatbelt cut into his hands from twisting it so tightly.

“Good and bad are a lot more complex than that. I know this stuff makes me _uncomfortable_ , but your choices _now_ are what matter. Not your choices when you had nothing but ultimatums in your life. It doesn’t sound like _you_ wanted to make those choices, either,” Patton said thoughtfully, sounding resolute despite the shakiness in his voice.

“Learning to shoot a gun was cool,” Roman supplied weakly. There were things he liked that he knew he shouldn’t have. He enjoyed learning new stuff. He liked people cheering when he did sleight-of-hand tricks. He liked having enough money to buy his own clothes and pick what he ate and buy his own things. He liked some of the stoners. They were funny. He even liked Jet. “Jet’s a d-bag in high-pressure situations, but he was pretty chill most of the time. We hung out often, even though he’s years older than me. I didn’t hate all of it,” Roman admitted, loosening up on the seatbelt a bit.

Jet was the only person who knew, other than repeat customer stoners. But even they didn’t know it was Roman. There was one who invited him in to play Assassin’s Creed and Mortal Kombat, who saw him without the mask. Not that Roman would admit to playing those to Patton. Roman was certain that guy was just lonely and enjoyed talking to someone and probably thought Roman was older than he was. He was nice either way. He even let Roman stay with him one night to avoid a bad situation at home. There were plenty of things Roman liked about it that he knew he shouldn’t have.

“Finding joy when you’re in a terrible situation is okay and also doesn’t make you a bad person. It still just means you were trying to survive,” Patton reminded him. “You could have turned out much worse if you didn’t find ways to be happy with access to a gun and drugs. Well, you could have turned out much worse with _any_ of those factors,” Patton said, sounding kind of strangely impressed.

“Yeah, I hope Jet’s okay,” Roman admitted quietly and looked back out the passenger window again.

“I hope he found a home that helped him out, too. But I am still proud of you for turning out so… okay, despite everything,” Patton offered, sounding genuinely pleased. Was that supposed to make sense?

“You and Thomas have done nothing but say I’m _not_ okay since I got here,” Roman scoffed as he objected and rolled his eyes.

“Well, we had to re-evaluate where the bar was with new information. You’re okay, in a sense, for somebody in the situations you’ve been in… seeing as you don’t have a drug habit and are, well, you’re here. You still have to see the psychiatrist, though. You’re not okay in another sense,” Patton said resolutely.

“That’s so confusing,” Roman groaned and gestured in frustration. “Mr. Hartley said there’s no way to stop the state from having access to my medical records,” Roman pouted angrily. “You know I don’t want that.”

“We’re going to figure out the problems as they come. But Thomas and I aren’t equipped to help you. We will continue to be there for you and happy to assist, but you have lots of things that you need professional help to break down and rebuild into something healthier and more sustainable. For one, Thomas is really freaked out about you scratching at yourself when you panic. We don’t know how to stop that, and you can’t keep living life like that. It’s not safe or healthy,” Patton said firmly with a glance towards Roman.

“I can just wear gloves all the time like a movie villain,” Roman rolled his eyes. Patton was letting him leave them off for now, but they were in Roman’s pocket in case Patton changed his mind.

“Roman, it’s a temporary solution that you clearly don’t enjoy,” Patton said, shaking his head.

“I don’t like the reminder,” Roman sighed. “And I’m _not_ wearing them at school. I’d get harassed non-stop,” Roman grumbled. “What if I pull a Virgil and refuse to see the psychiatrist?” Roman said hopefully, but it came out more aggressively than intended.

“We’re signing up Virgil for to talk to a psychiatrist online. We realize now that it’s dangerous to keep waiting for you two to want it for yourselves. Just because Virgil hasn’t had non-car related panic attacks we’ve _seen_ doesn’t mean he’s not quietly at-risk while he sits alone in his room. He has trouble connecting to people, and we realize that it’s more dangerous to let go unchecked than we thought. We thought it just meant he couldn’t be around cars. We didn’t know there was a whole slew of other things that might be making his life harder,” Patton explained and used that serious parent tone.

“Thomas said that he had nine out of the fifteen things the ER doctor mentioned, and that’s _without_ him talking to us. It will take some time to get him to talk to somebody, so setting up appointments now, even if doesn’t respond in earnest right away, is better than putting it off and it takes even longer. You boys might even need to be on some medications,” Patton said, sounding sympathetic despite the fact they were forcing this on him.

“I don’t want to go on meds,” Roman said angrily, refusing to meet his eyes and watching the rearview mirror.

“I’m on anti-depressants and Thomas is on anti-anxiety medications. There’s no shame in it. They seem scary at first, and they _can_ be when you’re adjusting to them, but they’re there to improve your life and make it easier. It’s just like I have to take an allergy pill every day to treat cats. I could just suffer through the stuffy nose and watery eyes, but I don’t _have_ to,” Patton admitted.

“Why in the world did you become a vet if you’re allergic to cats?” Roman asked incredulously.

“They’re just so fluffy! It’s not a severe allergy,” Patton cooed. “But seriously kiddo, kinda hoping to die quietly isn’t healthy. It might mean you have a chemical imbalance and need medical intervention so you don’t take risks since you don’t care if you live or die,” Patton said more seriously, looking sad.

“I care if I _live_ ,” Roman drawled defensively. “I wouldn’t have done anything I did to protect myself in the past if I didn’t care if I lived or not,” Roman spat bitterly, not able to even look at Patton.

“But you think things would be easier if you didn’t _have_ to live anymore, right? That it would be nice if you just _didn’t_ wake up one day? Maybe a coma sounds nice? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you died in a freak accident?” Patton insinuated and Roman bit his tongue with a frustrated exhale through his nose. “I told you kiddo, I’m on anti-depressants. I’m not in your exact same boat, but I do know a little about what you’re going through. You’re very high energy for somebody with depression, but I’m not a people doctor and there’s probably more going on than we see. Which is another excellent reason to get you properly diagnosed. So we can get you the right tools to cope and recovery for everything we know and don’t know you have,” Roman hated that this all started to make sense. He still didn’t want to do any of it. The thought terrified him. But he wished it didn’t make sense, still.

“You kinda get it, right? Is it… is it normal to still believe I’m okay and don’t need help?” Roman asked quietly.

“I think anybody who gets shut down when they ask for help long enough will eventually convince themselves they’re okay and fine on their own just to cope. But I also think both you and I know you’re _not_ okay on some level and your brain’s just trying to play catch up with that fact since you’ve _had_ to be ‘okay’ for so long,” Patton suggested kindly, but it still kind of hurt to hear. Roman curled in on himself slightly. Another thing he wished didn’t make sense.

“Try to sit up straight, Roman, your rib needs room to heal. I know it feels counter-intuitive when you feel vulnerable,” Roman wanted to object to being vulnerable, but he tried to straighten out, anyway. Maybe he was feeling vulnerable and not bitter. It sort of seemed like he’d have to re-learn some feelings from the ground up because he was doing them wrong.

“So, we’re almost there. Do you want to discuss what you will say to him to explain what happened?” Patton suggested genially. Roman considered it before shaking his head slowly.

“No, I’m not the best at following plans or even saying the things I mean to say. There’s not much of a point to that,” Roman sighed. “I’m just going to… try,” Roman said, kind of wishing he had something better to say. Or some way to convince Remus to forgive him. Or something better to give him. Just… he wished for lots of things.

“That’s all we can do sometimes,” Patton said brightly. It was weird how he could flip his moods like that. Roman still felt kind of off from their conversation. Maybe Patton was just good at hiding things. “Sorry that I accidentally kept you up instead of letting you nap on the way over,” Patton apologized.

“I’m probably too nervous about seeing Remus again to have taken a nap either way. I keep thinking I’m not going to _recognize_ him for some reason. Or he won’t recognize _me_. But that doesn’t make _any_ sense. And it’s not the only completely unreasonable thing going through my head,” Roman admitted sheepishly.

“It’s not unreasonable that he’d look different, kiddo, it’s been 4 years,” Patton said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Roman asked incredulously, looking to Patton and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Four years is a long time! You’ve both done lots of growing, I’m sure,” Patton possibly attempted to explain. What the hell was he talking about? Holy shit, did Patton not _know_? Oh, he _had_ to see Patton’s face when he found out. Roman wasn’t saying a damn thing.

“Still. I just don’t think I would have rested well,” Roman said dismissively. He at least had something to look forward to. Remus used to love this kind of thing, too, so maybe Remus would laugh, and that would be worth it.

“All right, we need to leave our personal effects in the car according to the website. Put your phone, keys, and wallet in the glove box if you have any of them,” Patton said. Roman shifted slightly to extract his stuff while Patton pulled into the parking lot. Roman closed his things into the glove box and looked around the lot. God, this place was… depressing. It’s a giant concrete box, and it feels… wrong. Haunted, maybe. Just bad. Patton slipped his phone in the glove box and locked it before they both got out of the car.

Patton had to show his ID, and it took a bit of arguing, but they managed to find him and Roman on the approved visitor list after about 10 minutes. It was ridiculous that Roman wasn’t allowed to see his own brother under normal circumstances. Patton was right about that. They don’t _have_ parents for Roman to come in with. Getting Patton and Roman on the approved list was probably the social worker equivalent of an act of god. Roman would have to thank him properly when he saw him next month. Maybe Patton would let him bake him cookies or something. Roman waited on one of the few chairs in the lobby until they were finally able to go through x-ray and security. They weren’t allowed to bring much to him, but Patton brought a bag of chocolates for Remus, which was nice.

The security guard brought them to a weird steel and concrete cafeteria-looking room, where they picked a table and were told to wait while they fetched Remus. Roman’s foot started tapping, and that hurt like a mother fuck, so he managed to move his nervous energy to drum on the table with his fingers. Patton tolerated the noise and offered him a soft smile every time he looked nervously to Patton as they waited. This part made Roman so restless it physically hurt. The guards made him nervous enough, but seeing his brother for the first time in 4 years was a whole new level. He fought to keep himself as level as he could with the sheer joy from the knowledge that at least, after all this time, he’d finally get to see Remus again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 20 Warnings:**  
>  Anxiety, Depression, Drug Trafficking Mention, Unfair Treatment Mention, Panic Attack Mention, Acrid Sass, Guns (use of guns), Mention of Illegal Activities, Implied Self-Harm and Drug Use, Prescription Medication Mention, Death Mention, Suicidal Ideation (directly discussed), JDC, Food.


	21. local foster parent now has second-hand trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman finally gets to see Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in end comments  
> you have been warned

“Remus Reinhart!” A guard called, and the door opened.

Roman’s heart could have stopped. He was completely blindsided by finally being able to see his brother after so long. He didn’t look different from Roman, other than the fact that he was almost twice as muscular. So his fear was as stupid as he thought. Though it appeared like Remus had broken his nose and it set funny, even though it wasn’t very noticeable. Roman only saw because he looked at it every day in the mirror. His hair was shaggier than Roman’s, which was saying something, but everything else was like staring at an alternate universe version of himself. That would be bizarre if he wasn’t used to it somewhere in the back of his head.

“Ro!” Remus shouted and rushed up to the table Patton and Roman were seated at.

“Remus! Holy shit!” Roman exclaimed fervently before he could stop himself. “Have you been lifting the younger kids? What the fuck?” Roman exclaimed in bafflement.

“Why aren’t _you_ lifting the younger kids? You got to be able to throw a punch!” Remus sat down next to Roman and the pair laughed buoyantly. “‘Ey! Seriously though, Sanvgjet?” Remus pointed to Patton.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He’s okay. Do you still speak that nonsense language we made up?” Roman asked curiously, leaning toward Remus.

“Half of my unit does, the guards can’t break the code since there’s no code to break,” Remus tapped his head with a smug smirk.

“Remus is your _identical twin_?” Patton asked loudly and incredulously. Oh yeah, _that’s_ the expression he was looking forward to. Sheer bewilderment. Roman smirked at Patton’s dropped jaw as he glanced between the two.

“He didn’t know we were twins?” Remus pointed. “You chaotic bastard, you wanted to see his face, didn’t you?” Remus laughed and hit the table lightly.

“I only just realized they didn’t tell him on the way over. Perfect opportunity. The face is worth it,” Roman smirked. “Seriously, though, this is bullshit. I’m really sorry you’re stuck in here. My SW said something about you getting drunk and starting a fire? There’s _no way_ ,” Roman said pointedly.

“I didn’t get _drunk_. I’m not that fucking bastard. That family was just _assholes_ ,” Remus huffed angrily. “But I _did_ start a fire,” He shrugged, disaffected.

“You did?” Roman raised his eyebrows. “For god’s sake, _why_?”

“I didn’t _mean_ to! They didn’t cook for me there and it was mom’s birthday so I tried to make her paella and it sort of scorched part of their stove. I ran away so they wouldn’t beat my ass for it. Mom would have been pissed if somebody touched us on her birthday of all days,” Remus said sheepishly. “I’m not the best chef, but I was sick of peanut butter sandwiches, and I just really miss her food,” He added solemnly.

“I knew that was absolute _horseshit_. I can’t make her paella, either. I’ve been trying, but it never tastes right,” Roman admitted hourly.

“We’re just going to have to wait till Dia de Los Muertos and ask her ourselves for how to do it, huh?” Remus laughed. “I just… still really want it again, even though I got in Juvie for it,” He admitted much more quietly with a reserved look on his face.

“If they wouldn’t kick me out immediately, I’d give you a hug, man,” Roman said sympathetically.

“That’s also horseshit nobody’s allowed to touch anybody. We’re all touch-starved bastards who get off on punching each other as human contact,” Remus bemoaned. “I think we could cordially shake hands like fancy fucks and be fine,” Remus held out his hand and Roman took it and they shook vigorously.

“Hm, yes, quite, stocks,” Remus hummed.

“Yes, yes, indeed, business contracts,” Roman nodded. They released before the guards got antsy.

“So who’s this incredibly baffled looking stiff and how’d a non-parent get in to visit me?” Remus pointed vaguely to Patton with a quizzical expression.

“That’s Patton. New foster parent. He’s nice, actually,” Roman motioned to Patton. Patton waved weakly, but he looked like he was still processing everything.

“I mean, he drove you out here, so probably. It’s been fucking years, man,” Remus faced more towards Roman.

“I’m sorry. I’m pissed about it, too. I’ve had just a real shit lineup of foster families. I lost phone privileges two families back, and I was with them for just short of a year and then I didn’t have your number anymore, I’m so sorry I never called, man,” Roman apologized emphatically.

“I mean, I’m not happy about it, but I get it. It’s not like I could get your number to call, either. Your jackass social worker would never share it with mine,” Remus shrugged. He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t look hurt, which was relieving. Maybe Roman was afraid for nothing.

“Oh, I got a new one. They fired the old one. Long and Kistka story. Events transpired,” Roman replied, honestly not wanting to get into it. Though Roman wasn’t sure he could hold it together if he saw the police here. It was unsettlingly sterile, like those holding centers, and the guards were extremely unnerving.

“Shit? Kistka? Jesus. Some serious events must have transpired to get an SW fired, I had one who used to hit me and he just got suspended,” Remus said flippantly.

“Shit, that’s a bad SW. My new one is nice. He pulled some favours to get me on the approved visitors list along with the new guardians,” Roman explained.

“What, a real bro? Nice. Mental fistbump. If we make fists they _will_ tase me,” Remus nodded. “My parole officer isn’t the worst. I had to throw my weight around for a while, but I’ve got respect now and the other kids give me some space. Can’t be the top of the ladder but can’t be the weakest here. I think I’ve mostly got this place figured out by now,” Remus explained proudly.

“I’m so sorry Remus, I feel like such a piece of shit for winning the fucking lottery while you’re stuck in Juvie,” Roman wrung his hands and dropped his shoulders.

“Hey, the fates be dicks like that. Honestly, it’s nice to know you’ve got it good, if that’s what you mean,” Remus nodded encouragingly.

“Nobody hits, nobody yells, and they have real ice cream. It’s awful I don’t deserve a lick of it,” Roman and Remus laughed together. Patton looked like he tried to object, but Remus cut him off before he could start.

“Man, I hope I get placed with someone who will let me visit you after I get out. I’ve just got one more month,” Remus said, seeming excited.

“One more? Seriously? How long have you been here?” Roman perked up immediately at that news.

“Just a little short of two years. They couldn’t prove much, but the family was intense about pressing charges. So I got a lengthy sentence for freaking out and running off,” Remus said, sounding annoyed.

“God, I freaked out and ran off last Wednesday and they’ve been nothing but nice about it and it’s driving me up the wall,” Roman rolled his eyes and flailed his arms slightly.

“What’d you freak out about? The usual?” Remus asked curiously, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, I got this new thing where I have a fit about being a fuckup and I’m not punished for it, it’s weird,” Roman said dismissively.

“Ugh, what a nightmare,” Remus laughed. “So you’ve had mostly shit homes, too? I always kinda hoped you ended up better than me,” Remus admitted, sounding disappointed.

“Same,” Roman agreed sourly.

“Well, the nice part about Juvie is I’m so desensitized to hitting and loud noises that I don’t freak out about it anymore. I mean, the smell of alcohol still sets me off, but otherwise I’m a little better at handling it.” Remus said. Roman smiled at that. It was a mixed bag at best, but at least it was _something_.

“God, I’m worse if anything. Pat says that good environments are hard or something? I don’t follow. I just know I have a mental breakdown every goddamn day and I’m just so sick of it,” Roman groaned and leaned on the table.

“Ugh, that sounds like shit city. I haven’t had one in a while. Some kid choked me out like dad used to recently and I pulled myself together long enough to sock him in the dick and get out of there,” Remus looked proud of himself and nodded.

“Oof, in the dick?” Roman made a disgusted expression and winced.

“You’d do the same,” Remus accused and gestured towards Roman vaguely while he tilted his head.

“I know I would, I can’t even handle _shirts_ touching my neck, but that had to have pissed off some people in your unit,” Roman said, motioning to the building in general with the hand that wasn’t propping him up on the table.

“Yeah, but ‘dickpunch mcgee’ ain’t been fucked with since. Somebody will doubtlessly try to get me back in the dick, though. I’ve gotta stay ready,” Remus said resolutely. What a nickname.

“That’s probably the hard part even if you have it figured out. No safe spaces,” Roman nodded hourly.

“Man, what’s even a safe space anymore. Safe spaces are a lie we tell ourselves. We ain’t safe from ourselves, even if we’re safe from others. Under the bed or in the closet always seems like a great idea until you’re cornered, you know?” Remus said blithely.

“Deep. Dark. But deep. Turns out I’ve been attacking myself so I get it,” Roman held up his arm. The bandages were finally off, but you could still the healing lines of nail cuts.

“Brutal. Badass looking though, like you fuckin’ fought a badger,” Remus smirked.

“Is fighting a badger badass?” Roman raised his eyebrow.

“I dunno, I fought one in the yard once and people said I was a badass. Rabies shot hurt like a bitch. Do you know when you started doing that?” Remus pointed to the healing scrapes on his arms.

“I don’t even know I’m doing it. They’ve been making me wear these stupid gloves at home,” Roman said, feeling annoyed with the situation.

“Gloves are pretty cool, IMO,” Remus made a spirit fingers motion and wiggled his eyebrow.

“I don’t want to be a ‘Hans’. Who wants to be a ‘Hans’?” Roman’s voice raised slightly and flipped his hand in the air dismissively.

“I thought Hans was a cool villain! He found himself in a shitty situation, so he made a master-plan to put himself in a good one! If he could have just married Anna off the bat, then he’d have been sitting pretty as princess-consort of Arendelle. I mean, assuming he stopped trying to kill Elsa to ascend the throne. He’d have no need to do anything shitty unless he felt like he wanted to dominate the world or something since he’d assuredly get a say in running the kingdom since he was honestly helpful other than the whole evil plot thing,” Remus explained his standpoint. It weirdly made sense.

“Huh. I never thought about it like that. I mean, Anna would still have been in a loveless marriage,” Roman said, not completely sold.

“She could’ve got the weird reindeer fucker as a side piece, it’s super common for royalty to have extramarital affairs,” Remus nodded sagely.

“Boy, that’s a freakin’ AU I never saw coming,” Roman whistled. “Bypass the events of the story completely. Elsa is clearly a lesbian, anyway. The movie could have used her powers as a metaphor for coming out or something,” Roman mused.

“Yes, make it _gayer_ ,” Remus hissed in delight.

“Um… Hans is gay and mostly leaves Anna alone. And Anna’s bi and Kristoff’s NB?” Roman suggested, not sure what Remus was looking for.

“Perfect,” Remus nodded. “Now you can be cool with the gloves,” Remus motioned to Roman’s hands.

“I do _not_ follow your crack logic,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

“Gloves are gay,” Remus grinned.

“I’m not-” Roman tried to object.

“Yes, you are. We’re identical twins, fucko, that’s how I know. That’s dad talking and you need to sock that voice right in the fucking face,” Remus said seriously, looking Roman dead in the eye.

“Identical twins don’t necessarily have the same orientation,” Roman said dismissively.

“We’re monozygotic, not dizygotic, we statistically likely have the same orientation and I’m bi as the day is long,” Remus said firmly.

“Don’t you use _math_ to fool me, I can’t _do_ math,” Roman hissed in displeasure.

“It’s true, see, ‘cuz you’re gay and gays can’t do math,” Remus laughed.

“Fine! I’ll consider that maybe it’s dad and reevaluate my life or whatever,” Roman dramatically huffed and gave up.

“Thank you,” Remus gave Roman a thumbs up. “Any chance you’ll get kicked out in a month and they’ll maybe place us together if there’s a home willing to take two gay teens?” Remus asked hopefully.

“I said I’d consider it, I’m not admitting anything! But probably not. I’m getting medical care and shit, I think they might like me for some ungodly reason that I can’t comprehend, I’ve been nothing but an ass,” Roman sighed. “Patton, any chance you’ll send me back next month?” Roman asked, equally hopeful and depressed about the concept.

“What? Huh? I’m so lost! You’re both talking like a thousand miles a minute,” Patton answered, looking between the two with furrowed eyebrows and pursuing his lip.

“Any chance you’ll change your mind and boot me out next month?” Roman asked again, a little slower.

“What? No! Why would you ask that? I told you we’re not sending you back and I mean it!” Patton insisted.

“Ugh, see? But they promised they’ll take me to visit you even if your new ones won’t take you to visit me. I think they might actually be good for it since I’m here now and all. I’d kill to live with you again, though. I’d put up with you kicking me and everything,” Roman sighed, motioning to Remus’s tapping foot.

“I do be kung fu fighting in my sleep. But, actually, I shouldn’t share a bed. I sleep-attack anyone within a foot of me,” Remus said. “Defense mechanism, these days,” He tilted his head and shrugged slightly.

“I’d put up with the sleep fu. We can have 4 AM panic attacks together maybe,” Roman chuckled.

“Aw, brotherly bonding,” Remus cooed and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Shut up, you fucking dork,” Roman groaned. “I miss you so goddamn much,” Roman said intensely.

“Miss you, too. Don’t get emotional or they’ll kick my ass,” Remus shot a look to the door he entered from.

“Sorry. I know the no emotions rule. I’ve just been waiting this whole time in the stupid hope that maybe we can be brothers again,” Roman admitted quietly.

“I’m always your brother, you can’t lose me that easily,” Remus smirked and leaned forward.

“I must start lifting more weights and then I can punch you in the face through the mirror,” Roman motioned to Remus and laughed.

“Man, that’d be cool. I’d stab you behind the ear,” Remus nodded. “It’d hurt like a bitch,”

“Ugh, Rude!” Roman scoffed.

“Mirrorverse Twinicide! Calling the band name,” Remus declared.

“Shit, that’s a magnificent band name,” Roman nodded in agreement. “Is the food here okay?” He asked curiously.

“I mean, it’s better than starving,” Remus shrugged loosely, not seeming very bothered.

“That sucks. Hey Patton, can I give him the chocolates? They made Patton carry them in for some reason,” Roman asked, holding out his hand for the bag.

“Huh? Chocolates?” Patton pulled the bag out of his shirt pocket and Remus hissed in delight and made grabby hands. Patton passed it over, still looking kind of confused. “We couldn’t bring much, sorry kiddo,”

“Kiddo? Weird. Thanks, though! Oh my god, I just want to eat them all, but stuff like this is gold in there. I can use it to trade for things or favors,” Remus said, sounding really conflicted, glancing between the bag and the door he came through.

“Just pick a favour you’d do for yourself and eat a chocolate for it,” Roman offered.

“Oh, life hack,” Remus nodded and considered it, holding the bag. “There is more here than I need of favours, I think. Hm. Staying alive is a favour,” Remus chuckled and dug out a chocolate to pop into his mouth. He ate it with a massive smile. “Oh my god, I have had nothing sweet since our fuckin’ birthday,” Remus hissed in delight.

“We can bring more next weekend, kiddo,” Patton offered.

“What, we can come again?” Roman shot in excitement. Remus looked to Patton with a wild joy in his eye.

“Bring chips, too!” Remus cheered.

“I have no idea what’s happening, but sure?” Patton said. “We’re almost out of time for visiting. I think I see why you’re not good with time because I literally do not know how that happened,” Patton sounded really confused.

“Shit, already? Can we please stay till they kick us out?” Roman pleaded with Patton, holding his hands together.

“Of course, bud. I know it’s been a long time. Why are they only letting you get an hour, Remus?” Patton asked, still clearly befuddled.

“Oh, one hour is the ‘good’ amount of time. They don’t let us have more than an hour. If I was in trouble I’d have less,” Remus shrugged.

“That’s awful. Prison really _is_ better,” Patton’s frown deepened. “There’s not a lot we’re allowed to bring you, but is there something other than chips you want?”

“Seriously? You don’t know me and you’re willing to buy stuff for me?” Remus asked incredulously. “What’s with this guy?” Remus pointed with this thumb.

“I still can’t figure it out, honestly,” Roman shook his head. “Too nice. People can’t be this nice,” He tilted to the side.

“I mean, he puts up with your ass,” Remus pointed to Roman and laughed.

“And I continue to be _baffled_ by it,” Roman shrugged with amusement.

“Man, I hope someone will barely tolerate my presence over the clear and present disdain here. I mean, I will be hard to place now because I’m a ‘dirty criminal’. I’ll probably be in a holding center and end up in a group home at best,” Remus said, dejected.

“I’m so sorry, those centers set me off just thinking about them. I hope you’re not stuck in one long,” Roman was equally distraught at the idea.

“My parole officer says he’s already working with a social worker to find a placement. He warned me to not get my hopes up or anything, but he knows those places freak me out,” Remus said, a little hopefully.

“You, too?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, we were screaming like we were being gutted with a fishhook when they dragged us apart. I don’t think anybody in the room was okay with that. I bet we traumatized _other_ people,” Remus gestured outward with his hands.

“Oh, god, _probably_ ,” Roman sighed. “Man, prison’s too good for dad, they should have let mom kill him,” Roman groaned angrily.

“Wait, what?” Patton asked incredulously. “I thought your mom died protecting you?”

“She died in the emergency room. The cops separated her from him before she could finish stabbing the bastard after he gave her the fatal internal damage,” Remus spat. “We were all in the hospital, after that. Black and blue with broken bones and shit! ‘Cept good ol’ Arthur, anyway. He was out back at the time. Obviously, dad had to get his guts put back in, but they should have just let him die,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“I still have fuckin’ nightmares about it. Ugh! Dude, the _smell_ from dad’s guts, holy shit. I’ll never forget it. I try not to use serrated knives…” Roman mumbled and trailed off.

“I mean the flashbacks and nightmares aren’t great, but serrated knives always just reminded me that mom loved us enough to try to kill him for it,” Remus shrugged.

“I mean, that is nice of her and all, but that doesn’t stop the fucking blood-curdling screams from playing in my head. Though, to be fair, mom probably thought we were dead when she came in. I mean, we were barely breathing and there was blood all over us,” Roman shuddered. “You think we’d be here if Abuela didn’t have a stroke and she could still take us when dad fell off the wagon again?” Roman asked curiously.

“Dad would have done it one way or the other. I don’t think Abuela could have protected us forever, as hard as she and mom tried. I miss the fuck out of her, though. Remember when we got bored and sawed off those tree branches in the backyard when she fell asleep so we could hit each other with them and after she was mad she let us keep the branches? Great day,” Remus smiled and nodded.

“Not that this information isn’t completely and utterly horrific, but do you need me to bring you anything, Remus? We’re running out of time,” Patton shuddered and looked absolutely horrified for some reason.

“Oh! Right!” Remus smacked himself in the head and they both cackled.

“Mood,” They deadpanned together.

“Underwear. Medium. Black boxers,” Remus said. “Boxers and chocolate,”

“They-” Patton started, looking concerned.

“Listen, you and your sad smile don’t need to know what sick shit they put us through back there,” Remus pointed behind him with his thumb. “Just trust me on that. Don’t bring too much stuff or they won’t let you in with it. Less candy and only one of those snack bags of chips,” Remus showed the size of the bag with his thumbs and foreigners.

“I’m going to miss you all goddamn week, Remus,” Roman said despondently.

“Eh, we waited four years, we’ve probably got this. I dunno about you but life’s suddenly a lot more worth living,” Remus leaned on his arms.

“Oh, same. I can’t wait to throw you out of a tree,” Roman laughed evilly.

“Oh, come on, it only happened a couple of times,” Remus rolled his eyes, sounding amused.

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, but a little vengeance never hurt anybody,” Roman smirked.

“I’m pretty certain revenge hurts people, there, Roman,” Patton stopped him and Roman shook his head sarcastically.

“The tall twink will protect me from your cold vengeance. He could probably reach in a tree and pull you out. You’re skinny as shit. I could carry you above my head,” Remus laughed darkly.

“Man, I haven’t had a house that let me eat full meals for years until these gay dorks, cut me some slack,” Roman huffed and flipped his hand as if he was shooing a fly.

“Gay dorks? All of ‘em?” Remus sounded oddly impressed.

“Yup,” Roman popped the p. “I mean Virgil hasn’t mentioned it,” He added while considerately tapping his face.

“You will get _so bullied_ at school if that gets out,” Remus whistled.

“I’ll just start benching the other kids like you do,” Roman laughed.

“Time’s up,” A guard barked out near them and Roman and Remus both jumped.

“Shit,” Roman and Remus hissed in unison.

“I miss you, I have stupid emotions for you, I’ll see you,” Roman blurted out as Remus got up.

“Ditto. See you next week, thanks again for the chocolate!” Remus waved as he walked back over to the guard. Roman sighed deeply and Patton stood up to help him out of the table. He grumbled and stared at the door Remus exited through and pulled himself up to his feet to head out. It would be a long ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:   
> JDC, Guards, Excessive Cursing, Referenced Violence, Referenced Injury, Referenced Gore, Referenced Abuse, Mentioned Knives, Food, Negative Self-Talk, Depression, Anxiety, Mentioned Panic Attacks
> 
> Beta Read by [midge1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/profile) & [anxielin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxielin/profile)  
> thank you I'm delerious and I appreciate it greatly please leave an f in the chat for me


	22. the heart warming story of two depressed foster teens vibing™ together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short discussion, video games, and lunch.

Roman mostly fumed for the drive home, and Patton let him do so without a fuss. He also let him take a nap. Roman was certain he ended up falling asleep at some point. He was awake when they got home, but the music changed to classical and he didn’t remember that happening. It also happened much faster than it should have in theory, not that Roman had any understanding of time. He was thankful for the space to process. He was mad about having to leave Remus again, but the ride home helped him get through that so he wasn’t as bitter anymore. Stupid anger issues. Stupid being resentful about being angry. Emotions were dumb.

He accepted Patton's assistance to the couch, and with as much as his feet hurt, he didn’t bother complaining. Patton looked a little shell-shocked himself as he sat down near the corner of the couch, honestly. Roman wasn’t entirely sure what about, but the whole experience was both shitty and amazing, so he couldn’t blame him. Roman was somewhere between happy, sad, angry, and just straight vibing.

Patton examined Roman for a moment as he settled down on the couch. “So, kiddo… I can’t say I followed all of that. Because somehow you two broke some kind of weird time barrier along with using fake words, jumping subjects like hopscotch and cursing as if you were sailors. But I think there are lots to unpack there,” Patton intoned, being careful with his enunciation.

“Let’s throw out the whole garbage bag,” Roman shrugged, kicking out of his shoes to put his aching feet up on the couch. He didn’t feel like discussing it. He only just calmed down and wasn’t sure he could work down from being pissed off again.

“I’d ground you for that language, but you are sort of already stuck at home and that feels uncharitable to take away video games or something,” Patton said off-handedly, looking a bit defeated as he leaned forward on his thighs.

“See, too nice for your own good,” Roman chuckled, motioning with his arms towards Patton. Patton just blinked at him for an awkward moment.

“I have literally never seen you so alive and animated. Ever. Even when you were sprinting with Lita,” Patton said, looking somewhat baffled. He scrunched up his lip to the side and kept staring unnervingly at Roman. “Also, I had no idea anybody could talk that fast,” Patton added, sounding a little impressed.

“Remus and I were always ‘if you stop moving you die’-type individuals,” Roman replied, fiddling with his jacket sleeves. He didn’t understand why he was being watched so closely. Did he do something? Was he supposed to do something? Roman chewed on the inside of his lip apprehensively.

“I’ve just never seen you be that… high-energy. I mean, I knew you were energetic, but that was a whole other level. It was kind of overwhelming,” Patton stated, leaning back into the couch with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, looking down at his lap.

“No, no! I think I get why you were having so much trouble with following your homework yesterday if it’s always like that in your head. And why you act restless so often,” Patton held up his hands and shook his head. “You don’t have to say sorry,” He added gently.

“I don’t follow what you’re saying, either,” Roman looked at Patton in confusion. “Am I in trouble for cussing?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern and still chewing his inner lip nervously.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’d be right to punish you over it. Just try not to do it next time,” Patton said considerately with a small shrug.

“I was 100% not thinking before speaking at JDC. I barely have that capacity in the first place,” Roman rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch arm. He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Well, that explains how you can talk so fast,” Patton chuckled and shook his head. “Seriously, you boys cussed more this afternoon then I’ve heard all year,” Patton said weakly, sounding kind of disappointed in Roman. The tone almost hurt, and Roman winced a little and played with his jacket zipper.

“Sorry, I don’t have much of a filter,” Roman apologized dourly, tugging his zipper up and down.

“It’s something we can work on, I guess. That kind of language doesn’t fly in the real world,” Patton said firmly, holding up his finger.

“We were at Juvie. If there’s anywhere to cuss like prison inmates, it’s with the prison inmates,” Roman said and signed ‘inside prison,’ while he rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you _should_ do it,” Patton frowned at Roman. “Oh, hi Virgil,” Patton smiled towards the staircase. Roman signed hello as well.

‘Chips,’ Virgil signed, passing by. Roman blinked twice at Virgil actually explaining what he was up to, which didn’t happen that much. It was strange to see Virgil do non-cryptid of insults-like things. Unless maybe he was just powered by salt. What does a sodium-powered insult cryptid look like? Probably some kind of gangly demon. Virgil needs red eyes or something. He has bright hazel, but he deserves to be more of a cryptid in real life.

“That whole event has me very confused. But first thing’s first, why didn’t you mention you had an identical twin?” Patton asked and shook Roman from imagining the various ways Virgil could look if he was skulking through the woods as a supernatural entity. Roman blinked and sat up straighter, his eyes shooting to Patton.

“I didn’t realize the state hadn’t told you! You said you knew I had a brother. I didn’t realize _you_ didn’t know we were born 17 minutes apart,” Roman threw up his arms. “I figured you’d find out soon and _really_ wanted to see the face you made,” Roman explained sheepishly. Patton sounded upset at him about it, and it put Roman on edge a bit.

“That’s kind of dishonest, Roman,” Patton chided, frowning at Roman. Roman scratched at his finger for a moment, feeling bad.

“Letting the situation speak for itself isn’t dishonest. It’s shady at worst,” Roman shrugged slightly, trying to excuse himself. He didn’t understand why it would be a big deal. Virgil walked back into the living room munching on a bag of chips, looking interested. He placed the bag on the top of the couch.

‘Damn. Photo?’ Virgil signed while he stood behind the couch.

‘No phones allowed,’ Roman signed back the reason he couldn’t get one. He wanted a photo, too.

‘Shit,’ Virgil signed and snapped, looking disappointed. He came around to sit on the opposite couch arm while eating salt and vinegar chips by the handful.

“There’re lots of things that I think I heard that just make me more thankful you’re already going to be talking to someone. I have to admit I feel awful that Remus has no support system in there knowing what I do now,” Patton said a little shakily. Roman stared at him incredulously for a moment. He was not entirely sure what Patton was going on about still until his brain caught up.

“Oh! Well, he’s probably got friends if he’s teaching them our made-up twin language,” Roman replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t think anybody who doesn’t like him would put up with it. It’s a hard one,” Roman signed ‘impossible’. It was nearly a bitch to learn because of all the contextual words, so anyone putting up with that probably liked him. Patton hummed, not sounding that satisfied.

“Do you know why he wants boxers?” Patton asked carefully after another pause of Roman fiddling with his zipper and the crunch of chips from Virgil.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Roman drawled in distaste. “They have communal underwear. The state doesn’t buy them any separate clothes,” Roman explained. Patton shivered in disgust. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but he had a visceral reaction to the idea no matter how he looked at it. He has known some revolting dudes in his life and would rather go commando than share cleaned underwear with them.

‘Fucking gross,’ Virgil signed and shook his head. Virgil must have agreed with the sentiment because he also stuck out his tongue and grimaced.

“And, um,” Patton shot a glance to Virgil. “I think he said you were bi?” Patton asked quietly.

“I mean, we can’t all get assigned gay by J. K. Rowling. Some of us have to settle on our twins _maybe_ being the less repressed ones. I said I’d consider it, don’t go throwing me a pride parade,” Roman said dismissively. He didn’t wish to speculate about it, he didn’t want to deal with it, he wouldn’t prefer to hear a single slur from his dad’s mouth in his head again, so he’d just rather… not. Maybe later. Maybe. Is hermit a choice? Hermit sounds nice.

‘I got assigned gay by _Nintendo_ , loser,’ Virgil fingerspelled with a teasing expression.

‘Lucky,’ Roman signed back, shooting Virgil a sarcastic grin after he scrunched up his lips. Well, there’s his confirmation. Virgil just ate his chips smugly.

“I’m still very confused,” Patton creased his eyebrows and looked at Roman.

“I’m saying I don’t know,” Roman motioned widely with his open palms as if motioning to all the shit he didn’t comprehend.

“Okay, that I understand. I support you no matter what,” Patton said with a small reassuring smile. He appreciated the acceptance and all but considering Patton married a man, it was kind of a given.

‘Barf,’ Virgil signed with a grimace and his tongue out again. Roman couldn’t help but chortle at Virgil’s ridiculousness.

“What if I come out as an asshole? Would you support me then?” Roman asked an absurd hypothetical just to make Virgil laugh.

“What? No!” Patton objected and put his face in his hands, shaking his head slowly. Roman chuckled at Patton’s over-the-top reaction.

‘Owned,’ Virgil signed and snickered silently before shoving another handful of chips in his mouth.

“I think I need to go process this with Thomas. Would you mind slipping your gloves back on?” Patton asked, sounding weary. Roman sighed dramatically and pulled them out of his pocket, making a big show about putting them on. “Thanks, kiddo,” Patton got up from the couch and went to Thomas’s office and closed the door.

‘How was the slammer?’ Virgil signed curiously.

‘Bullshit. There go our diabolical plans,’ Roman fingerspelled with a small eye roll.

‘Curses. Plan B, then. Attract vampires. Gay ones,’ Virgil signed back with a smirk and bounced his eyebrow once.

‘Perfect. Plan C is metal limbs. Now is Minecraft time,’ Roman signed, getting up to grab the laptop.

‘I’ll join you. BRB,’ Virgil signed and got up from the couch and headed upstairs. Roman sat back down and laid across the couch with the family laptop, elevating one foot against the arm of the couch. Virgil came back down with his laptop and sat on the top of the couch with his laptop in his lap. Like, join him in the living room or playing Minecraft? Did Virgil play Minecraft? Did he want to spend time with Roman of his own free will?

‘Make a world to join,’ Virgil signed. Roman shrugged and created a new world with a random seed and opened it to LAN. So Virgil played Minecraft. He didn’t strike Virgil as the sandbox type. And he wanted to play with Roman. That was unexpected. It wasn’t like he hadn’t played with foster siblings before, but he just hadn’t expected Virgil to want to do anything with him that didn’t involve watching TV and insults.

Virgil’s demon avatar popped up a few moments later and immediately started punching trees. Roman joined him in the massacre of the local flora right away. He had set up a small house for them to wait out the night by the time the sun finished setting. However, Virgil was perhaps too feral and ran into the night with a wooden sword. Roman built the house close to the spawn point, so there wasn’t much harm in crafting up some wooden swords and joining him. Virgil played much differently from Roman. He just ran off and murdered until he ran out of supplies and then came back to the base Roman was building up with materials. He messaged for help sometimes, but just seemed content running headway into hoards of spiders in caves. He was clearly terrified of creepers, but who wasn’t? Everything else he wanted to murder without exception. Keeping up with Virgil’s need for torches was an event in itself.

It was nice playing with someone that wasn’t a little kid, though. Roman got to focus more on the building when he preferred to and had someone to back him up in the caves when he would rather explore. They also insulted each other incessantly. Roman had been called a ‘ball-brained hamster’, a ‘sock full of hot _go-gurt_ ’, and ‘hysterical trilling inanity’ in the last few minutes alone. He called Virgil a dark void where dreams go to die when Roman suggested a new addition to the base Virgil didn’t like. Virgil created a sign for the chest Roman kept filling with mining and murdering materials with that very name he liked it so much.

“Boys, it’s past noon. I made lunch for everyone since you were playing games together. Get to a stopping point and come eat,” Patton called from the kitchen while Roman was harvesting a vein of gold. His inventory was nearly full, so he may as well turn around and head back to base. Roman retraced the trail of torches back, where he joined Virgil in setting stuff to smelt while they were eating. Virgil got up and Roman followed him into the kitchen.

“The food smells good, Patton. Thanks for cooking for us when you didn’t have to,” Roman said, sitting down at the table and joyfully serving himself some broccoli-chicken mac-and-cheese at the plates already set. It smelled marvelous, and Patton hadn’t seasoned it oddly like that food last night.

“I didn’t want to bother you. Plus, it’s an excuse for a bonus eat-together time!” Patton smiled, though he still looked exhausted. Virgil grabbed the salt and vinegar chips he was eating earlier and crumpled them up on the top of his serving of mac-and-cheese. He held the bag over for Roman and raised an eyebrow. Roman shrugged and took a small handful of chips to do the same. The crunch and bite were pretty good on the creamy mac-and-cheese when he tentatively tried it.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Roman nodded and Virgil smirked, putting the bag down on the dinner table between the two of them. It wasn’t like Virgil to share his salty potato products, so the gesture weirdly flattered Roman. His standards for flattery had gotten low, it seemed. Thomas came into the kitchen and smiled at Roman.

“Comfort food, Pat?” Thomas asked, arching an eyebrow at the food on the table.

“ _Roman_ is fine, but I’m not,” Patton said somberly as he served himself some mac-and-cheese.

“Hm?” Roman looked up with his mouth full of mac-and-cheese when he heard his name and swallowed. “I’m sorry?” Roman apologized, but he did not understand what was happening.

“No, Roman, you didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to apologize,” Patton held up his hands and shook his head.

“I heard my name and the fact that you’re not okay, so I think I kinda _do_?” Roman said carefully, furrowing his brow nervously.

“Do you remember what you talked to Remus about?” Thomas asked mildly, sitting down at the table in the remaining spot.

“Uh-” Roman thought for a moment, trying to remember. “Um. Frozen, gayness, juvie, killing each other through a mirror universe… my family, I think,” Roman listed off. “Probably some other stuff, we were there for an hour,” Roman shrugged and took another bite of mac-and-cheese. It was a weird question to ask, but it’s not like he and Remus were talking about bad things, so he had no reason to hide it.

‘Can twins kill each other through a mirror universe? Metal,’ Virgil signed, looking darkly excited at the concept.

‘Only if they’re perfectly identical,’ Roman put down his fork and signed back while he chewed.

“Agreed, he’s probably fine. Comfort food is excellent, though. Thanks for cooking, love,” Thomas rubbed Patton’s shoulder appreciatively.

“It helps me process things, but there’s never a bad time for mac-and-cheese,” Patton said sagely, nodding and rubbing his chin wisdom.

“Maybe not so much if you’re lactose intolerant. Unless it was your last meal, then it’s the perfect time for mac-and-cheese,” Roman provided with a small shrug. Virgil looked considerate and also nodded after a moment, chewing his food.

‘Poisoned mac-and-cheese would be a good method to die,’ Virgil signed. Roman raised his eyebrows and considered it, then tilted his head and nodded enthusiastically.

‘Only with bacon and serranos,’ Roman added. Virgil nodded in agreement, looking satisfied.

“I really hope that’s table appropriate talk,” Patton narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“We’re just talking about variants of mac-and-cheese,” Roman provided dismissively. It wasn’t wrong, but he assumed Patton didn’t want to know that one of those variants was poison.

“Pre-digested, right?” Patton asked carefully, pointing with his fork.

“Gross!” Roman shot and Virgil stuck his tongue out. They both grimaced at Patton. “We’re not animals, geez,” Roman muttered bitterly and shook his head.

“We discussed lactose intolerance. I had to be sure,” Patton said seriously as he looked between the two of them.

“Well, you brought that part of the issues up, not us,” Roman rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair dramatically.

“Are your feet okay after having to be on them today?” Thomas asked, clearly in an attempt to change the subject. Roman could respect that since he’d rather be able to eat his food without feeling disgusted.

“They’re not bleeding, I don’t think? They just hurt,” Roman replied, sounding just as unsure as he felt. He didn’t exactly check them when he got back. Bending down to do that hurt like a bitch and they didn’t feel weirdly hot or anything like that.

“I’m not sure about you walking to school still on Monday,” Thomas deliberated, sounding concerned again. Thomas and safety, geez.

“A proposed compromise: I call you if they start bleeding again,” Roman offered. Thomas seemed to like compromises, and it was reasonable in Roman’s opinion.

“How about we check if your feet are okay in the morning and then make that the agreement if they’re healed enough?” Thomas suggested back an alteration to the compromise, and Roman narrowed his eyes and chewed his cheek for a moment.

“You know I’ll be too out of it to argue with you in the morning,” Roman objected, stabbing at his mac-and-cheese.

“I’m counting on it,” Thomas smiled knowingly and Virgil silently snickered at Roman.

“ _Hey_ ,” Roman glowered mildly at Thomas, pulling his lip to the side.

“If they keep opening up and bleeding, it’ll just take longer to get back to your regular life, Roman. They need to heal fully,” Thomas reminded him, tapping the table with his finger to punctuate his point.

“It’s just that one on my right foot that doesn’t like staying closed. What if I hop there?” Roman asked facetiously, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“I’d love to see you try while not hurting your broken rib,” Thomas said glibly.

“Okay, you know what?” Roman replied faux-angrily. “That’s fair,” Roman finished blithely and snickered. He reached in the chip bag and crumpled up one more chip on the remaining mac-and-cheese.

“You had me going there, kiddo, not gonna lie,” Patton chuckled nervously after a second.

“Sorry,” Roman apologized. “I was just having some fun,” Roman said sheepishly, curling in his shoulders.

“I thought it was funny,” Thomas laughed lightly. Roman relaxed a little and continued eating, glad he wasn’t upset. Patton settled down too, though he was still eating much slower than his usual vacuum pace.

‘Want to continue playing after food?’ Roman put down his fork and signed at Virgil. Virgil scooped some more mac-and-cheese out before signing.

‘Father, I crave violence,’ Virgil signed back with an evil smile, and Roman laughed, not anticipating that response in any sense, and got a smaller portion of seconds for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Anger issues, Talk of JDC, Over-Apologizing, Food, Talk of Cryptids, Death Mention, Blood Mention


	23. teen gets out of phys ed, overwhelming peers with jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman suffers through gym class in his own way.

Roman sighed and leaned back on the bleachers. It was dodgeball day, it seemed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being hit by something unexpectedly, so not having to participate was relieving. Roman didn’t want to do homework or read a book to pass the time, like they allowed him to, because it would make him look like a major nerd to a ton of dudes with testosterone pumping and that was just bullying central. 

He couldn’t use his phone during school hours, though. He’d just do it anyway if the gym instructor wasn’t watching. She wasn’t a fan of the doctor’s note at all and continued shooting glances at him. As if he would mysteriously heal or something equally miraculous. They weren’t all mean glances. Mostly just annoyed. He got the same from most of the other people in his class. He’d probably also be jealous of sitting out on dodgeball, too, if he wasn’t already.

The gym teacher seemed miffed about the fact that the physician’s note was open-ended since Roman had to be cleared for exercise by a doctor. It was the same for any broken bone, but without a cast, people had trouble believing it seemed. This wasn’t Roman’s first rodeo with broken bones or anything. She was vexed she’d have to print up packets to serve as make-up classwork. Roman wasn’t aware you learned anything in gym class other than suffering, so that was new. 

He wished he had the packets to work on already. She wasn’t doing anything other than lying back and ignoring a bunch of teen boys pummeling each other with dodgeballs, so it’s not like she couldn’t go into her office and print them up. Maybe she was attempting to make Roman stew in frustration for not taking part. If she was, she was succeeding fantastically. Roman was jittery and pissed off and generally in a terrible mood.

Fighting slouching in bleachers was surprisingly difficult. He just craved to lie down and take a nap, but the classmates would hate him more if he did. So Roman persevered and watched from the bleachers, catching himself slouching when the soreness in his side got worse. He positioned himself up high enough up that he was out of the danger zone of dodgeballs, but that meant the people against the wall could see him clearly. 

He received bitter looks from people who were out and sitting on the sidelines on the gymnasium floor. He didn’t understand the ire since they were relaxing, too. Roman would personally rather take a dodgeball to the chest than a steel toe boot, but life just didn’t work out like that. He tried to elevate his feet while he watched. He wouldn’t get much of a chance to raise them throughout today, and they hurt. It was still better than staying home again. At least they were finally well enough that he could walk.

It was Roman’s bitter luck that Nolan was in his PE class and kept shooting him glares. This period was taking him forever. Nolan seemed to get progressively more annoyed at him for whatever reason. Roman sighed and decided not to look back. He didn’t prefer to accidentally start some kind of glare war. Roman’s left foot tapped nervously as he stared at the gym ceiling, waiting for the minutes to pass.

When he noticed himself fidgeting, he was supposed to wear the gloves, but there was no way he was ostracising himself even further by doing that. He didn’t care that he technically agreed to a compromise over it not wearing them in school. He stood out like rainbow tulip in a dead lawn with gloves and a T-shirt. They weren’t as obvious with his jacket, but his jacket was white and the brown leather just contrasted it. Roman just couldn’t find a way to make it work. He had shoved the gloves deep in his backpack instead.

He checked the massive wall clock in the gym as he carded his fingers through his shaggy hair. Roman had a bit of time to pass until history class. He had just sort of stewed in anger for most of the period, but his brain must have finally ranted out what it wanted to say for Roman to be capable of thinking about something else. He knew better than to challenge the times his head was obsessed with something by now. It was just easier to wait it out. Just another 10ish minutes of chilling on the bleachers to go. He was so bored it hurt, like a painful pressure gripping his brain and trying to open it up.

Roman lolled his head back to the ceiling and forced his mind to drift instead of fighting it. Something fun. Something cool. Fighting off an army atop a dragon. A spectacular sword. The dragon’s flames were acid green and melted everything instantly. Roman leaned back on his hands on the next row up of bleachers. 

He was fighting the magically animated golems of an evil tyrant. He fired a crossbow to protect the dragon as it decimated the golems below. The great iridescent black dragon was trying to charge up a blast when Roman was nearly thrown off of it by flying machinations that expelled ice beams from their torsos. He was able to catch on to the tail and pull himself back up, deflecting ice beams with his sword. The dragon charged up its power in time thanks to Roman’s defense, and the machinations melted into puddles far below.

The dragon shot Roman a look, and Roman understood in an instant. The mighty winged beast flew close to the earth, and Roman tumbled expertly off the dragon. Roman and his trusty sword ploughed through the golem army, swinging wildly and protecting himself with well-timed blows and using the enemies as his shields. Roman approached the castle by foot as the dragon cleared out further golems around him. The army was dwindling, and they were successful.

Roman turned his eyes to the looming castle ahead. He had to stop this madness. Roman reached out and the dragon’s great claws swooped down and grasped Roman’s arm and lifted him from the field of decimated golem parts. The dragon flew Roman over the moat and past the raised drawbridge, but ballista prevented the dragon from going any further in. Roman was jettisoned towards the outer castle wall to get him closer to his target. He rolled as he landed on between the crenelations, skidding to a stop to stand and fight the soldiers. 

Humans were arming the ballistae and defending the doors, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to kill, so he sheathed his blade and instead relied on his legs to do the talking. Roman leaped about and kicked soldiers off the machinery, knocking them out in a few precise hits to disable them. The guards at the door brandished blades at Roman, but he reached for his crossbow and fired a well-placed shot at each, pinning the soldiers by their clothes to give Roman just enough time to breach the doors.

The guards inside weren’t so easy, though. Roman had to take out his trusty sword once more to defend himself. He knew the evil sorcerer’s magic compelled them to fight, and they didn’t deserve death for the mistakes of another. Roman did his best to take the higher ground and send soldiers toppling down the stairs in the tower. He hoped he hadn’t harmed them too severely, but perhaps once this was all over healers could come help mend those Roman had to battle off.

Roman ascended the stairs into an upper corridor. Massive banners billowed in the wind that blustered through the hall. The magic was stronger here. Roman had to resist the powerful effects that caused his head to swim in the aura alone. Things would be worse in the inner chambers. His boots clicked loudly against the cold stone floors as he dashed down the hallway. This area was suspiciously empty of soldiers and the smell was strange. It felt almost electrically charged. Roman ran into a dead end. This couldn’t be the wrong way, could it?

He examined the hall further as he turned around. The walls were adorned with massive tapestries and sconces fitted with gems. The waste of the kingdom’s resources alone was ample reason to dethrone this monster. But his use of the forbidden magics propelled Roman forward to do what had to be done before the entire kingdom fell to ruin from the sinister arts infecting the lands.

Banners and tapestries littered this hall, but a strangely blank wall between two sconces caught Roman’s attention as he passed. Roman wasn’t practiced, but he felt what he was looking for. He reached deep within himself and forced out the raw power within. With unrefined powers, he could do nothing skilled, but he could break a barrier. The illusion shattered and a strident cracking sound shook the hallway. One minor success wasn’t enough to celebrate, though. Roman was here for one reason alone. He scaled the stairs that were obscured by the now broken barrier two at a time as he pushed deeper into the belly of the beast.

The staircase narrowed and Roman sprinted with all of his being to escape the shrinking passage, staying ahead of the walls cinching shut behind him. This dark sorcery could try to deflect him, but Roman was quicker. He raced up the stairs and cleared into a new chamber just as it was becoming too narrow to traverse. Roman stumbled in, his bearings shaken by the sheer intensity of the tainted aura encasing the chamber. This would be his most challenging battle yet.

He straightened his back and locked eyes with the dark sorcerer upon his despicable throne. The entire room shook with the sorcerer’s booming, sinister laugh. Roman drew his blade and stood his ground. He wouldn’t show weakness now. Now that the final battle was here, he had to stay strong. He couldn’t afford an ounce of fear as he slowly approached the villain’s throne as the ominous wind howled all around them. Then the bell rang and Roman tumbled back on his bench from the shock. Shit.

Roman grabbed his backpack and left as fast as he could safely stand down the bleacher stairs. The students down on the wood gymnasium floor weren’t familiar, however. And even the wrong age group. Son of a bitch, did he miss lunch? Stupid ridiculously short lunch periods! He was late for class. Goddammit, he didn’t even get to defeat the evil sorcerer!

He wasn’t surprised no one told him or anything, but he couldn’t exactly be a speed demon on his healing feet. Roman knew if he stepped the wrong way he’d get stuck at home a few days again and he wasn’t risking it. He also didn’t need detention for running. Roman went as hastily as he could manage to his history class. 

He’d rather be back in the castle than history, but he could never get a daydream back once he lost it. That meant that particular kingdom was doomed to fall to the taint of the forbidden magic under the rule of a tyrant. He was at least lucky he ended up daydreaming instead of sitting there and being bored for the whole period.

Roman pushed the classroom door open as quietly as he could achieve, but a classroom’s worth of eyes landed on him as he arrived. He flinched at all the unwanted attention and headed for his seat.

“Detention, Mr. Reinhart,” The teacher drolled as Roman slid into his desk. Son of a bitch. Roman was fated to detention either way. He had so much homework though, it wouldn’t make a difference if he started it in after-school detention or if he did it at home. Roman may as well do it today, just to have it out of the way. 

The teacher’s voice droned on as Roman got out the things listed on the board and struggled to follow the lecture. It felt like the words went right into gibberish land when he attempted to focus on them, so Roman had to find the careful balance between focused and distracted without slipping into another daydream every class. It was annoying as hell.

He tapped his fingers on his thigh and started doodling stars in the margins of his notes. Other than clearly jumping in the middle of a lecture, he could start to try to pinpoint things that sounded important to take notes on. People, years, locations, quick event summaries, and concepts that were generally interesting. Teachers liked to use those kinds of things on tests. Missing part of the lecture was nothing new for Roman, anyway. His notes were always a scattered mess out of context, but if he managed to label an overarching category, he could usually understand them.

Roman was sketching a bobcat jumping between the stars when the bell finally rang again. He traded his homework for a detention slip at the teacher’s desk and left the classroom in a huff. That dragon with the awesome super hot flames would totally eat that teacher for breakfast. He wished to know more about those tapestries, too. He had lots more notes to fail to take and pages of homework to turn in, though, even if he could get a daydream back.

If Patton didn’t help him on Sunday Roman didn’t think he could have possibly done all the homework he had gotten over the 3 days he was out. It was like the school was trying to kill students with mountains of paper. How many trees did academia kill every year, anyway? Probably a horrific number he shouldn’t look up and depress himself further with. He couldn’t stop thinking about that daydream. Those golems made such a cool noise when they died, damnit. He’d probably give up and attempt to bring the daydream back next class.

— ✪ —

Roman sighed with relief when his eyes met with the couch as he arrived at the house that afternoon. His feet were sore as shit and he wanted to put them up more than anything. Stupid fresh skin, not hardened to the brutal reality of life yet. He felt it every time the skin on his foot bent. 

He slid his backpack under the coffee table so no one would trip over it and kicked off his shoes to lay back on the couch. Bed might be better, but _couch_. Sure, he seemed like he lived there lately, but right now home was wonderful. Roman buried his face under a throw pillow and sighed with relief as blood shifted out of his feet and he was no longer opposing gravity to keep a straight spine. Good posture was hard.

“Roman?” Thomas asked, and it sounded like he came into the living room from his office. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you were. You didn’t answer your texts,” He said, sounding concerned. Whoops. He felt a little bad for worrying Thomas.

“Sorry, after school detention,” Roman said plainly, flipping his hand. “Hadn’t taken my phone off silent yet,” He explained from behind the cushion.

“Detention? For what?” Thomas asked curiously.

“I was late to history,” Roman responded blithely as he flopped his arm loosely off the couch.

“Because you couldn’t move quickly enough? Those heartless-” Thomas sounded surprisingly pissed. He’d seen Thomas being irate before, but this was new and a little scary, if he was honest with himself. He knew it wasn’t about _him_ , but all angry adults made him want to run. He needed to cut Thomas off.

“I was late because I was an idiot and spaced out waiting for gym to be over, not because I couldn’t get there on time in the stupid 8 minutes they give you,” Roman interjected quickly. Thomas settled down fast, thank god, and just looked concerned again. He was used to ‘concerned’ from Thomas. That was fine. Roman settled down again, sinking the tension from his muscles back into the couch. He was hungry and thirsty but didn’t feel like getting up. He didn’t even feel like getting up to play games. Though he had at least another hour of homework and shouldn’t play anyway, or he’d forget to do it.

“Were you-” Thomas started and Roman had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I was fine. I was just daydreaming and didn’t hear the first bell go off,” Roman cut him off to explain.

“How did you not _hear_?” Thomas asked, bordering on disbelief and befuddlement.

“Daydreaming, remember?” Roman reminded him, unsure why Thomas was confused. Had he never gotten caught up in a daydream before? It happened to Roman every few days, it seemed.

“And nobody told you?” Thomas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. What kind of school did Thomas go to where people looked out for you? Geez.

“I’m lucky I didn’t get pelted with a dodgeball. It’s fine. The detention is already done, and I did some homework in it,” Roman shrugged lazily. “Detention isn’t much of a punishment when you have nothing better to do. There was a stoner in there just doing zen finger crochet for the whole hour. It was amazing. I think I learned how to do it just by watching him. I’ve only ever used a hook,” Roman said, still feeling very impressed by how he didn’t stop or do literally anything else. Roman’s gesturing knocked the throw partially off his face and he didn’t bother to move it back.

“I… suppose that’s a good way to look at it. Is there something we can get so you can have more fun at home?” Thomas proposed, sounding awkward. Roman had no idea what he could feel awkward about, though, and he certainly wasn’t giving Thomas any money-spending ideas.

“And make detention suck worse for the next time I mess up?” Roman lilted airily and let out a single dark laugh.

“ _Roman_ ,” Thomas responded firmly, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. He had a surprisingly intense gaze for a dumb joke.

“What? It was a joke,” Roman replied dryly with a small huff.

“I don’t appreciate that you made the assumption that you’ll inevitably mess up,” Thomas sounded upset and shook his head lightly, looking pointedly at Roman.

“Well, it’s the one constant in my universe, so why not embrace it?” Roman sighed and flipped his hand dismissively close to the floor, feeling too lazy to move more than that.

“ _Roman_ ,” Thomas chided. Roman rolled his eyes that were partially skewed by the pillow.

“Fine, whatever. I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, that was in poor taste or something,” Roman conceded. He was too tired to argue.

“Why are you shaking? I didn’t scare you, did I?” Thomas asked quickly in a concerned tone. Roman furrowed his eyebrows and threw off the throw pillow to look at his hand.

“Oh, huh,” Roman commented blithely, watching his hand slightly tremble. “No, you didn’t startle me. I’m okay, I’m just fu-frickin’ tired. That happens often, I don’t know why. I assume it’s my crap sleep,” Roman explained and his hand sagged back down.

“Good catch, kid,” Thomas chuckled weakly. “I’ll make you some tea, maybe that will help?” Thomas said, not sounding sure but hopeful nonetheless.

“You don’t need to do anything for me, like I said it just kind of… happens,” Roman shrugged and laid his arm over his eyes.

“I’ll make myself some tea, too,” Thomas said lightly and headed to the kitchen. Roman huffed, but he wouldn’t mind some tea. He could make it himself without bothering Thomas, but if Thomas was already doing it for himself, then maybe that wasn’t a big deal and he could let it go.

Something was unsettling about laying his arm over his eyes, so he returned it to limp noodle status and stared at the ceiling instead. He wondered how Remus was doing. He also wondered what Virgil was doing holed up in his room again. Virgil had that laptop. Maybe he did something on that all day. Being allowed to use the TV here was awesome, but Roman got the draw of hiding in your room with the door closed. The living room was open and a central part of the residence. Lying around in the living room for nearly a week made him much more comfortable here, though. Thomas and Patton were worrywarts, but they were… nice. Being out here was okay sometimes. He didn’t want to push it, or anything.

Thomas came back out into the living room and slid a mug of tea on the side table near where Roman was laying and he sat down nearby with his mug, holding it in his hands and looking like he was sniffing it. Roman caught a whiff of the tea while he passed, and it smelled like vanilla and spices, which smelled relaxing.

“I feel like playing something kind of silly. Do you want to join me?” Thomas looked over to Roman with a small smile.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Roman nodded and slowly shifted himself to sit up on the couch again, putting his feet up and sitting sideways. “I’ll go lay in your office, or something, you don’t have to stay out here to watch me,” Roman offered nervously. He had fun playing with Thomas last time, and Thomas knew when to stop so Roman wouldn’t end up playing forever on accident and forget his homework.

“No, I hit a roadblock with writing. I need to take a break before I fry my brain. We cook stuff together in this game, it’s kind of fast-paced but it should be fun,” Thomas responded brightly, getting up to grab the controllers. “The game is kind of hard with just two, so inviting Virgil might help. Will you text him?” Thomas asked, slipping out another controller from the charging station. He passed off a joycon to Roman with a smile. Roman nodded and invited Virgil to play with them.

“Do you think he wants to?” Roman asked carefully.

“It never hurts to ask. It’s nice to feel included even if he’s busy with something,” Thomas said, settling down on the couch again. That was a nice thought, but Roman didn’t like it when people shot him down when he invited them to things. Roman watched his phone uneasily while he waited for a response. Virgil normally texted back quickly. Virgil sent back a thumbs up and came down the stairs a moment later.

‘I will kick your ass,’ Virgil signed with a smug smile, backing up into the couch and climbing up to the top. Thomas tossed him a joy-con and smiled brightly.

“Okay, one sec,” Thomas said and straightened his hair while the game loaded. “Cool. Pick your characters here. Make sure they look different enough you don’t get confused. Patton had that problem,” Thomas chuckled. Virgil picked a vampire, Roman chose a dragon, and Thomas picked a unicorn. Roman was amused they all chose supernatural avatars. Virgil stared at the loading screen in confusion for a moment where it showed the map.

‘Wait, co-op?’ Virgil fingerspelled and narrowed his eyes at Roman. Roman held up his hands and shrugged.

“What’s wrong, Virgil?” Thomas asked, noticing Virgil’s glower.

“I suppose I should have specified this wasn’t a versus game,” Roman replied, glancing between Virgil and Thomas and chewed his lip.

“It’s fun, just give it a shot. A few levels and we can switch to a fighting game if you don’t like it,” Thomas offered. Virgil considered it for a second and nodded in agreement, turning toward the TV and looking intense. Roman liked that compromise, as well. He hadn’t played a fighting game in a long time and couldn’t wait to show Virgil he’d need a lot more than determination to beat him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Bad Teachers, Scorn of Peers, Violence Against Golems and Soldiers, Weapons, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self Image, Playful Threats
> 
> Beta Read by [Jamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/profile) & [Anxielin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxielin/profile) & [Max](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxIsOnline/profile)  
> Thank you! My think brain hasn't returned and they've been wonderfully helpful! Max and I went back through all the chapters and named them, [please enjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748232/navigate).


	24. child used to food insecurity is confused by middle america's food habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has a forgetfulness party and once again concerns Thomas.

Roman kicked off his shoes at the foot of his bed and dropped his backpack next to his desk. He was tired, what’s new. His feet finally hurt less, at least. He was also immensely grateful to say that for once he didn’t have to spend all night on homework. He had something due at the end of the week, but he didn’t have to do it tonight. He was terrible at starting homework early anyway, so there was no point in trying today.

Part of him was glad that the Sanders didn’t kick him back so he wouldn’t have to be doing this all over again at a new school. He’d only had two families that returned right away, but he did much less awful shit at their houses than he did here. It only made sense that they would send him away, but he didn’t mind still being here. They’d probably see reason eventually, so Roman shouldn’t get his hopes up or anything.

A snack and breaking out the art supplies sounded like a pleasant way to pass the time. He’d sketched something he really liked in English, and he wanted to give it a proper go and not on thin notebook paper. The coffee table was glass, so he could transfer it to his sketchbook with that. He gathered the supplies he needed and headed back downstairs, dropping off the stuff on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen for a bite to eat.

The pantry didn’t really reveal anything appetizing. He’d had mostly chips after school lately so he didn’t want those, and they’d long since finished those peanut butter filled pretzels much to Roman’s dismay. Roman scanned the fridge and freezer. He could have a healthy snack of an apple or something… _or_ he could make some of those biscuits made entirely out of cheese they had with dinner last night and dip them in pizza sauce. The answer was obvious. He pulled out the cheese biscuits and lined them up on parchment paper in the toaster oven on the counter. He cooked a few extras in case a wild Virgil appeared. He seemed to have junk food sensing powers.

Roman went to the coffee table to clear off some space to use it. The more he removed, the more it revealed it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Spills and fingerprints would mess with his ability to use the table as a lightbox, so he grabbed the glass cleaner and a rag to clean it off. After cleaning both sides of the coffee table, he noticed the other glass in the living room was a little smudged up. The cabinet windows on the entertainment center had doggy nose prints on the lower parts, along with the windows. He already had it in his hands, so why not? Roman passed through and cleaned up all the glass in the living area, the mirror in the front hall, the microwave and stove door, and the window in the kitchen.

The toaster oven dinged and distracted him from cleaning off the front of the dishwasher. He had completely forgotten he’d put those in. Roman wiped the last corner of the dishwasher and washed the ammonia off his hands, leaving the cleaner and rag on the counter. He grabbed a plate and served himself half of the biscuits and dumped a little pizza sauce from the jar on his plate. Some part of his mind registered that they were fresh out of the toaster oven, but he picked one up to dip like an idiot and burned his fingers, anyway.

Roman grumbled while he ran his fingertips under cold water at the sink. He pulled them out to check if they were better yet, but they were still hot, so he kept them under the water a little longer. Virgil appeared as expected, which cheered Roman back up a bit. The idea of Virgil having junk food senses was funny, and he loved it when Virgil proved him right.

“I made you some, too,” Roman motioned with his head to the toaster oven. Virgil grinned wildly and just stole Roman’s plate and left the kitchen. Roman laughed out loud at the audacity of this bitch and shook his head. He pulled his fingers out again, and they felt fine now, so he served himself the other half in the same manner. He had the good sense to get a fork this time. He threw out the parchment paper and sat at the table, pulling out his phone to wait for his food to cool down. He saw the date and realized he probably needed to do laundry, so he got up to head upstairs and grab his basket.

He long since hasn’t needed to sort out his clothes into loads. His brights and darks were already all faded, and he only had a few whites, not enough to do a load with bleach. He just dumped the entire basket in the wash and put in some laundry sauce, starting the wash and bringing the basket back upstairs.

Roman stared around his room, not remembering what he was doing last. He paused and concerned if there was anything he needed to do. Probably clean his bedroom? There wasn’t much to pick up, just a few art supplies were out for some reason. He didn’t have that many things in his name to mess up. His loose stuff like old keepsakes or hobby items all fit in one drawer in the dresser, so it was easy to keep clean. But he should come back up to wipe off his desk with an all-purpose cleaner and dust. Roman yawned and returned downstairs for some water and to grab the cleaners.

He put away the filter pitcher and drank water, noticing his snack on the table. Oh. Roman chuckled to himself and sat down at the table, eating his four cheese biscuits and pizza sauce. He had completely forgotten he made them. They were at an edible temperature now, though. Convenient forgetfulness, for once.

After rinsing the dishes, Roman grabbed the duster and all-purpose cleaner to go handle his room. He dusted some shelves in the living room as he passed, just because he had noticed they were dusty and covered in dog fur. They mentioned they got a maid service once a month for that. How could Lita possibly produce this much wiry fur? Baffling. Roman headed upstairs to clean his bedroom.

Dusting the bookshelf in his room revealed that Lita must not come in here much since there was barely any dog fur on it compared to the downstairs. He was relatively certain Lita just napped in Thomas and Patton’s room until Patton appeared or something fun happened. Roman dusted off the books, his dresser, the desk, and the nightstand, then wiped down surfaces. There were plenty of eraser bits and broken pencil leads after the cluster-fuck of homework he had to do. Cleaning off the homework wreckage and such from the desk made it look much nicer, despite his pile of books and papers he hadn’t quite gotten around to organizing into something nicer looking yet. He organized his colored pencils by the rainbow in the organizer and took the cleaners back downstairs to put away.

What the hell was he doing again? Roman put the cleaners back on the shelf in the laundry room. He swore he was doing something. He had no idea what he was doing. The washer was going, which reminded him he started that. Maybe that was the thing. He clearly still had time to wait, though. Video games? Video games. Roman headed out to the living room and paused to make sure no one else was coming in to use the TV. Virgil didn’t reappear, and Thomas wasn’t even in his office. Seemed safe enough to him. There were quests to be had and demons to slay. Roman switched the TV input and turned on the game system to play, settling down on the floor in front of the TV to kick some lich ass.

Having free afternoons was a weird experience. Weirder than the forced days off, since he was kind of stuck in a room with Thomas for those. But this was totally up to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had so much free time completely to himself. It was… wrong? It felt wrong. But also nice. It was wrrice. No. That was dumb. Whatever. He had an amulet that unlocked a labyrinth. Fuck real life. He made sure he had enough healing items and repaired his armour, absolutely raring to go venture into it.

Something warm pressed into his thigh while he was fighting some goblins and jumped. He paused the game and glanced down. Lita had laid her head on his lap and was looking up to him pleadingly. Roman couldn’t help himself from melting a little and cooing, dropping his controller to scratch her behind her ears. Lita’s tongue bleped out and Roman could have died. He pet her a few times and she got up and trotted over to the back door and stared longingly at Roman. Roman got up to let her outside and followed her out. Lita bolted into the yard and ran it in three loops before stopping to sniff around near the tree in the backyard and used the restroom. She stuck her tongue out and happily cantered back over to the door. Roman headed back in and returned to his game when Lita went to go get some water.

Things in the labyrinth were going well, but they were intense. He went into a room that had a bunch of greater liches in it and he nearly bit the dust fighting them all. He got plenty of potions from the room, but it miffed him that he didn’t get something cool like a weapon or rare item. Single-handedly killing four evil wraiths at the same time should have at least gotten some new boots. He saved and continued forward, anyway.

“Hey, Roman,” He vaguely heard someone say while he was eyeballing a hallway that looked like it might have a trap.

“Hey,” Roman responded automatically. Traps meant the game was protecting something, probably. He was tempted. Roman made sure he healed up and put poison immunity on and headed down the hall. The poison immunity paid off, but he should have done something to resist fire damage since he killed three potions from all the burn damage. He was rewarded with a giant skeleton monster and a better sword, though. Vindication! He saved again and kept going forward.

“Do you want anything for dinner?” Someone asked and Roman chewed on his lip while he thought and killed a small army of evil rats.

“Roast boar would be helpful,” Roman suggested after pondering it for a second. He could use a fortitude boost right now. The rats didn’t do a lot of damage, but it was impossible to dodge them all.

“In the _real_ world, Roman,” The voice sounded bemused. Oh shit. Roman paused the game and rubbed his incredibly dry eyes.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, wishing for moisture to return to his burning eyes.

“It’s fine,” Thomas sighed and laughed a little. “I can relate, honestly. But I’m just about to cook dinner and want to know if anything sounds good,” He said genially.

“Oh, um, ask Virgil,” Roman supplied and rubbed his face again. When was the last time he blinked and how long were his eyebrows furrowed?

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing the gloves?” Thomas inquired. Roman turned around and saw Thomas leaning over the back of the couch. Roman froze and looked at his ungloved hands. Whoops.

“Uh, I forgot to put them back on, honestly,” Roman replied sheepishly. “I promise I didn’t freak out about anything while they were off, though,” Roman added. Well, maybe he did a little at school, but his arms were untouched, so he must not have panicked badly enough to do any damage. Gym class was stressful again. He hadn’t gotten back grades on his packets and he hadn’t attracted a random bully or anything yet, so things were mostly okay. The people in his morning English class even friended him on twitter. Though he hoped he had implied he took the gloves off more recently than after he got to school in the morning.

“All right. Do you mind putting them back on?” Thomas requested, sounding less peeved and more concerned. Roman nodded hastily and leaned back to get them out of his jeans pocket to slide them on. Thomas sighed with relief. “Just for my own mollification, show me your arms?” Thomas made a twisting motion with his finger. Roman turned around and held them straight out and rotated them for Thomas to see. Thomas smiled and nodded, apparently mollified. “Thanks. I appreciate you putting up with them for me. So, dinner? I already asked Virgil. I want to know if you want anything,” Thomas said pointedly.

“I’ll eat anything, it’s fine,” Roman said dismissively.

“I know you’ll eat anything, but I still don’t know what food you actually _like_ to eat,” Thomas urged, looking inquisitively at Roman.

“I like your cooking. Patton’s is seasoned oddly sometimes, but it’s all been fine,” Roman replied with a small shrug.

“Patton’s cooking used to be significantly worse. I made him take a few cooking classes. He used to think five tablespoons was a reasonable amount of seasoning for anything. The grill incident wasn’t the only time we had to throw food out because we couldn’t eat it,” Thomas responded and shook his head with a light chuckle. Roman stared at Thomas in amazement. Did they actually throw out edible food?

“That… why?” Roman asked incredulously. “That’s… _food_ ,” Roman stammered out, completely baffled by this information.

“If it’s too disgusting to eat, then it’s too disgusting to eat,” Thomas raised his eyebrow and said something redundant.

“I can’t… even,” Roman felt like his mind was melted. If it was turned into a charcoal brick by a fireball, that was one thing. But trashing it just because something was seasoned badly? That didn’t make any sense.

“Okay,” Thomas drawled curiously. “Well, is there anything you hate then?” He inquired and motioned towards Roman.

“Um, there are some textures I don’t like, and I’m not a fan of brussel sprouts, but I won’t waste food,” Roman answered him, still feeling really confused.

“We had brussel sprouts last weekend, and you _ate_ some,” Thomas said, furrowing his eyebrows at Roman. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, looking upset.

“I already said I won’t waste food,” Roman repeated and looked curiously at Thomas.

“So say if Patton made peas and there was half a container of pepper flakes in it, you’d eat it?” Thomas posited incredulously, looking at Roman intensely.

“… Yeah?” Roman replied, not following what Thomas was trying to get at. It was food. The texture from the flakes sounded awful, but he wouldn’t waste the food.

“You are a braver man than I. Okay, so. No brussel sprouts. What about those textures?” Thomas questioned and drummed his fingers on the couch.

“Oh, uh, how… Gritty stuff and stuff that is mushy when it… shouldn’t be? There are also some things that just sort of… hit my palette weird, but I don’t have any idea how to describe that,” Roman supplied. “It only makes me kind of sick, it’s fine, though,” Roman said, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t _force_ yourself to eat food that makes you _sick_ , Roman,” Thomas said emphatically and leaned on his arm while he looked a little frustrated.

“I’m not that used to having _options_ , Thomas,” Roman replied blithely and sighed. Even with the Finleys he just made what they bought him, and sometimes there wasn’t enough for him to eat a complete meal. He’d always take what he was given. It was better than starving.

“Kid, I swear every time you open your mouth I feel the need to hug you and tell you that things are going to be okay,” Thomas exhaled hard as he held his head and shook it lightly.

“I’m… sorry?” Roman apologized, not understanding what Thomas was trying to say. He didn’t know how Thomas put up with Roman annoying him all the time.

“It’s not your fault. Is there anything we’ve made you particularly liked?” Thomas asked, running his hand through his hair and seeming a little discouraged. Roman paused for a moment while he waited for a further reaction, but Thomas just exhaled and patiently looked to Thomas for an answer. He didn’t seem as frustrated anymore, and Roman loosened back up.

“That pizza you made was probably my favourite thing,” Roman responded brightly. “The stuffed chicken breasts were fantastic, too,” He added.

“It’s even _better_ if we let the dough rest overnight,” Thomas said temptingly, holding up a finger.

“You’re kidding,” Roman eyed him curiously. He didn’t think he’d ever had pizza as amazing as Thomas’s in his life and he couldn’t comprehend how it could possibly be tastier.

“Nope. How about I make some tonight so we can have it for dinner tomorrow?” Thomas offered with a small smile.

“Show me how!” Roman nearly jumped up right there but caught himself, gripping at the floor.

“ _Only_ if you pick what’s for dinner tonight,” Thomas pointed at Roman. Roman chewed his lip. He didn’t know what to choose. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he grabbed one of his fingers nervously. “Too hard?” Thomas asked softly.

“I just don’t want… to pick wrong,” Roman admitted quietly. “What did Virgil say he wanted?” He inquired, hoping for at least a starting point.

“Spicy and crunchy,” Thomas reported. “Picking meals is hard for him, so he usually just gives flavours or something like that. I read that choice paralysis is common with PTSD. Is it the same for you?” Thomas prodded and looked pointedly at Roman. Roman rolled his eyes and sighed. He managed to not say ‘I’m fine’ this time, at least. Maybe it was true for Roman, maybe it wasn’t and he was just dumb.

“I, uh, I am completely blanking, to be honest,” Roman replied impassively, trying to think of dinner. He desperately wanted to learn how to make pizza dough. But he didn’t want to pick wrong.

“Yeah, I assume it would have to be some sides or something. We don’t have the stuff for the things I usually make when he asks for that,” Thomas shrugged, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, tortilla soup?” Roman suggested. It was the easiest one to make of what he thought of. “I mean, it’s a bit hot for soup, but it’s spicy and crunchy,” He added a little sheepishly. Maybe that was stupid.

“Oh, that’s perfect! I didn’t think of that. We can make that quickly in the pressure cooker, even. We’ll chase it with ice cream to cool down. Pat will be pleased about that, honestly. Save the game and I’ll show you how to make the pizza dough,” Thomas smiled and stood up straight. 

Roman nodded rapidly and turned back around to save the game as fast as it would let him. His knee bobbed impatiently while he waited for the saving screen to finish processing. He didn’t know how to bake bread, and pizza dough was probably the coolest place to start. Roman nearly tripped as he rushed into the kitchen after Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24 Warnings:  
> Food, Food Insecurity Mention, Forcing Self to Eat Something Mention, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self-Image, Video Game Violence, Dogs


	25. study: how does ice cream affect your mood?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman gets a change of wardrobe.

Roman was rinsing off the ice cream dishes to put in the dishwasher, humming a song from Hercules. The ice cream brand the Sanders kept in the freezer was magical and custardy. The hot water pushed the small remnants of the cream off of the bowls and spoons with ease, and he loaded them into the dishwasher after they were clear of food debris. He dried off his hands and stepped away, about to head up to his room to read. He was ready to be off his feet. 

“Are you busy with homework tonight?” Thomas asked, taking over the sink area to rinse out the pressure cooker pot. 

“Nope, finally free. Why? Do you need me to do something?” Roman leaned against the counter and took the weight off his right foot. 

“Your clothes came in, I’d like it if you could try them on so we can return anything that doesn’t fit,” Thomas said. Roman froze, remembering his laundry.

“Clothes!” Roman blurted out and hurriedly headed into the laundry room. Son of a bitch, he _really_ needed to remember to set an alarm on his phone or something now that he could. 

“Are you okay?” Thomas called after him from the sink.

“Forgot my laundry,” Roman called back and pulled his clothes from the washer to the drier and clipped up the things with elastic to hang dry. He was lucky it was just a few hours and he wouldn’t have to re-wash them. He was also lucky he didn’t get in trouble for hogging the washing machine here. Virgil leaned over in the doorway and smirked smarmily at him. Roman dropped what he was holding to sign to him.

‘Fuck off,’ Roman signed and rolled his eyes. Virgil silently laughed at him, then slinked away, but not before returning the sentiment. He was positive forgetting laundry was an eventuality of the universe thing, so he had no clue why Virgil was on a high horse. 

“What was that about, kiddo?” Patton asked curiously from the kitchen table. 

“Genuinely no idea,” Roman shrugged and started the dryer. “I forgot what we were talking about, sorry,” Roman apologized as he came back out of the laundry room. 

“Your clothes came in the mail. I hid the prices. You can just try it on. There are just a few outfits to check and show me. Also, some stuff you shouldn’t need to try on. And I want you to know that even if you see a price, I got them for cheaper,” Thomas held up a wet finger pointedly at Roman before he dried his hands. “They’re already up on your bed if you want to try them on now,” He added.

“Okay,” Roman swallowed. He was grateful since he had done some cleaning today to help assuage the bad feeling. It wasn’t the first time a foster parent had purchased his clothes, but it had been a damn long while. The Finleys had bought him stuff when he grew out of them the last time, but he’d had to work it off with extra chores. He didn’t enjoy cleaning house gutters or scrubbing out an oven, honestly. Though, if Thomas asked him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “Do I have to show you?” Roman added, pleadingly. 

“Your perception of ‘fits’ is a little iffy to me, I’d feel better about the things you want to return if I saw how they looked for myself,” Thomas smiled reassuringly. Roman nodded and headed upstairs to his bedroom. 

The clothes were folded on his bed as prophesied by the man with the mysterious ‘dad’ powers. Roman noticed the prices on the tags were covered by opaque tape. He could peel it back if he wanted to, but honestly, Thomas was probably right to do it like this. He wasn’t a fan of the concept of trusting adults, but maybe, just maybe, Thomas and Patton were okay. At least about some things. He shouldn’t count on them or anything, but letting Thomas cover up some numbers so Roman didn’t freak out because they didn’t reflect how much he actually spent seemed like something he could trust. 

There were two unopened packs of socks that Roman checked quickly, and they were fine. He liked that they were black, those looked better with his new sneakers. The small pile of boxers was also all the right size. He wasn’t sure if Thomas came in and checked his clothes for the sizes or eyeballed them. He didn’t ask. He probably went up and investigated while Roman saved that village in the game. He tried on one of the new pairs of jeans and a baseball raglan. The scarlet red and gold on the sleeves were very striking. He stepped into the hall and was surprised to see Thomas leaning against the wall up there. 

“Oh, great! Looks like it fits fine. I’m a little worried about the track pants. Can you try those on next?” Thomas said and held out a thumbs up. He agreed that they fit way better than anything else in his closet. “The other one of those should fit fine, they’re the same brand. There’s a pack of shirts I guessed on and a flannel I’m also not positive about,” Roman nodded and headed back in his room. He examined the stack on the bed and pulled out a pair of track pants. There was a dark red pair and a black pair. He stepped back out into the hall after changing into the flannel and track pants. 

“Honestly, the flannel is kind of big, but I think the pants fit well,” Roman said, tugging at the big loose sleeve on the long sleeve shirt. 

“You don’t like stuff that’s too loose, right?” Thomas asked. Roman shook his head. It was too easy for someone to catch hold of him with loose fabric. “All right, I’ll return that one,” Thomas nodded to him and Roman returned into his room. He felt like he was handling this okay. He went to the next pair of pants down in the pile. These had zipper pockets, which was eye-catching. Thomas managed to find something that a YA protagonist would wear for sure. Definitely a rebel hero jumping off a building look. He tried those on with a button-down top and came back into the hall. 

“Looks like the pants are a little loose, but room to grow into them probably wouldn’t hurt. What do you think?” Thomas asked. 

“I like them. They’re really cool,” Roman replied meekly. They must have cost a fortune. He’d seen nothing vaguely resembling something like it on the clearance racks. 

“Hey, do you need to take a break?” Thomas asked, standing up straight and walking over to Roman. 

“You… you promise you kept it under seventy bucks?” Roman confirmed quietly, feeling very small. 

“I promise the clothes were under seventy dollars,” Thomas crossed his heart with his finger. “It’s okay if you need a recess,” Thomas reassured him again. 

“No, I’ll… be fine. I like them so far. I just… are you sure I can’t pay you back some way?” Roman leaned against the door and looked to Thomas warily. 

“I don’t need or want to be paid back with money or labour. All I want from you is to take care of yourself,” Thomas said. Roman had to stop himself from scoffing. It was a ridiculous concept. Thomas looked deeply concerned, though, and Roman felt weird. It made little sense, but it seemed like Roman was conflicted between two emotions he couldn’t even identify. He leaned towards Thomas, who reached out and hugged him. It helped a little if he was honest with himself. 

“I like the button down. I thought it would look dorkier, but I was wrong,” Roman told him softly. 

“A good fit will do that. It’s helpful to have something dressier for presentations, in my opinion. It helps people take you seriously. There are a few more jeans, shirts, and the jacket. Do you think you can handle it? We don’t have to do it all today,” Thomas offered kindly and rubbed Roman’s back.

“I got it,” Roman shook his head and pulled off. “Thanks,” He added quietly and turned back into the room. Roman tried on the rest of the clothes without much comment. There were only a few things that needed returning. 

He went into the bedroom and picked up a three-pack of v-neck shirts in jewel tones, and his eyes caught on the jacket at the bottom. It was a brown leather jacket with red scale-like insets on the sleeves and the back of the jacket and zippered pockets. It was hands-down the coolest jacket he had ever seen in his entire damned life. Roman shrugged it on right away. It fit. It fits! He looked down at it and admired himself, holding out the sleeves to look at the red insets. Even the stupid gloves looked better with this jacket on. He stepped out of the bedroom right away. 

“Thomas! Holy- Agh, you know what I mean!” Roman caught himself before he cursed. “This is the coolest!” He motioned to the jacket and spun around. “How did you even find something like this?” He said excitedly. He liked his bomber jacket, but this looked kick-ass!

“Determination and knowing what to look for. Does it fit well? Do you like it?” Thomas asked, grinning. Roman zipped it up swiftly and held out his arms. 

“Yes, yes, and yes,” He nodded happily. He paused and looked down at it again. “It wasn’t…” Roman trailed off and looked up to Thomas with consternation. 

“I got a reasonable price, I promise. It looks to be excellent quality. Hopefully, it will last a long time,” Thomas held up his hand. “Let me help you get the tags off the stuff we’re keeping,” He said and Roman nodded in agreement.

“Hold on, I’ve got to change back into my clothes,” Roman told him and closed the door. He didn’t want to take off the jacket, but the tag on this shirt was itching to high holy hell and he wanted it dead.

Roman changed hastily and hung up the jacket in his closet before opening the door for Thomas to come in. He was already bearing a pair of scissors, so Roman peeled off stickers and Thomas handled those stupid plastic things that held tags on. Together they worked quickly and dumped all the new stuff in the laundry basket with a pile of the returns off to the side. 

He was looking forward to having more pyjamas and clothes that fit better, as much as the fact that they spent more money on him stung. When he could run again, he had proper exercise clothes now. Moisture-wicking shirts and everything. He did not understand how Thomas pulled off getting so many clothes for cheap, but he appreciated it anyway. 

“Leather can be stiff until you break it in, so it wouldn’t hurt to put it on tonight if you wanted to wear it tomorrow,” Thomas informed him. Roman paused, examining him. He honestly wanted an excuse to put it back on, and he wasn’t sure if Thomas somehow knew that. The extent of mysterious dad powers was still unknown. “We’re going to watch Parks & Rec downstairs if you want to join us,” Thomas smiled pleasantly. 

“Um, yeah,” Roman nodded and went over to the closet to pull the jacket back out. He slid it back on and followed Thomas downstairs after ripping off a sticker on the chest.

“Kiddo! Looking-” Patton sputtered when Lita licked him on the mouth. “-fly!” Patton said brightly from the couch. Lita happily licked Patton in the face standing in his lap. Roman rolled his eyes. He was such a dad it hurt to watch. 

“Pat, don’t let Lita get away with that,” Thomas groaned and motioned to Lita who was excitedly licking Patton’s face. “Go wash off all that dog spit,” Thomas pointed to the half-bath door. 

“Fine,” Patton giggled and patted the couch. Lita hopped off him and laid down next to where Patton was sitting while Patton went into the restroom. 

“Oh, Roman. Since we let Virgil pick the movie last week, we thought we’d have you choose this weekend. I wanted to give you some heads up to decide. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though,” Thomas said as he sat down on the couch. Lita made a frustrated face at him and put her head back down. She must have been sour about Thomas making her stop. Roman paused to think. They watched _I am Legend_ last weekend. Patton had not stopped crying. Though he’d cried too, so he probably shouldn’t judge. Even Virgil had teared up at that one scene. 

“Um, sure,” Roman replied, still considering it. Patton liked romance movies and Virgil liked demons and stuff. Thomas seemed to like a wide variety of media, as Roman did. There wasn’t a lot of crossover with romance and monsters. Well, actually… “I already know which movie to pick. Warm Bodies. It’s also PG-13, so it’s okay,” Roman smirked. If Virgil hadn’t already heard about it, Roman had a chance to troll him into getting invested in a horror flick just to have it turn out to be a romance. 

“Isn’t that another zombie movie? Do you like those?” Thomas raised an eyebrow. 

“I just think you guys might like it,” Roman grinned and settled on the edge of the couch where he normally sat. “I like adventure comedies the most, but I’m not picky,” He added. 

“Are you picky about anything?” Thomas asked, sounding somewhat weary. Roman wasn’t sure if that was rhetorical or not. He didn’t think it was. There was one thing he was extremely particular about that he probably shouldn’t admit considering it would likely piss off Thomas, so he settled on something more mundane. 

“I’m kind of picky about art supplies. I don’t appreciate pencils or something breaking and messing up what I’m working on,” Roman responded off-handedly. 

“It looks like you don’t care about the paper quality much, it looks like school notes next to that sketch,” Thomas smiled and pointed at the notebook on the table. He had entirely forgotten about his earlier art plans.

“Oh, I was going to trace that into my sketchbook. Sorry,” Roman mumbled and gathered his things. He had no idea where his brain was, but it was certainly nowhere useful. 

“No, Roman, it’s fine. You can draw on the coffee table, we don’t mind. Right, Pat?” Thomas looked up to Patton stepping out of the hall bath. 

“Oh, of course not, kiddo!” Patton said brightly and sat down next to Lita, who stood up to lie against Patton. 

“I, uh, I meant I’m sorry for leaving it out. I got distracted. The table was dirty and, um, I got a little carried away cleaning, I guess,” Roman admitted quietly. 

“I thought the TV looked clearer for some reason,” Patton mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“Did you clean the entire living room?” Thomas asked curiously, looking around.

“No, I just picked up the table and did all the glass. Well, in here and in the kitchen, anyway. And cleaned my room. Though I should probably still vacuum,” Roman replied offhandedly and tapped his chin distractedly. He should do that. Roman started to stand up.

“Roman, you cleaned plenty. Sit back down,” Thomas responded firmly and Roman flushed as he sat down at the coffee table. 

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, looking down at the floor.

“No need to say sorry. Thanks for doing the glass, it looks nice in here. That explains why I found cleaner on the kitchen counter,” Thomas said much more brightly as he reclined comfortably into the couch. 

“Sorry,” Roman wrung his hands. He forgot to put it away because he got distracted again. Patton cleared his throat and Roman’s eye’s shot up to him.

“Take it back,” Patton held up a finger and stared at Roman.

“What?” Roman was completely baffled. 

“You’ve said sorry enough for things you don’t need to apologize for. Take it back,” Patton clarified emphatically, looking resolute. 

“Um, I take it back?” Roman repeated what he was told to say. 

“Thank you,” Patton smiled softly. “Do you have enough light to draw? Should we turn up the overhead light?” He looked up to the light that was turned down halfway. 

“No, actually it’s better if it’s darker in here,” Roman shook his head, still feeling very confused. 

“Won’t you hurt your eyes?” Thomas asked curiously. 

“I’m using the table as a lightbox, it won’t hurt. It’s fine. Go ahead and start the show,” Roman motioned with his head to the TV. Thomas shrugged lightly and grabbed the remote off the couch. 

The intro music started up and Roman hummed along with it while he opened his sketchbook to a blank page and used the spiral to make it the only page out and did the same to his notes spiral, then turned on the flashlight on his phone and put it on the floor under the drawing to trace it over to the sketchbook. He could see the lines from the notebook paper shadowing through, which hopefully wouldn’t mess with his tracing too much. 

“Oh, that’s clever!” Patton said brightly, sounding impressed. “I was wondering what you meant,” He hummed. 

“I was confused too. I’m used to the ‘lightbox’ meaning type of stage lighting. That _is_ smart,” Thomas laughed. “So why was it in your school notes?” He inquired, and thankfully he didn’t sound annoyed about it. His teachers sure didn’t like it.

“I just can’t focus in class without sketching, sor-um… I mean…” Roman trailed off. “There are still notes and all, I’m not slacking off. I wanted to color it and stuff so I’ve got to put it on paper that won’t rip,” Roman explained and pulled out his new kneaded eraser to clean up where he messed up. 

“Do you need any art supplies?” Patton asked nicely and Roman stiffened. 

“I, uh,” Roman fought the urge to say sorry again. “I appreciate it? But… I already received new clothes. Thank you again for those… and… it’s just… a lot,” He said carefully. “The sketchbook is new and Thomas just got me a new eraser set, so I have the basics and it’s fine,” He swallowed nervously. He hoped they would drop the subject.

“If you run out of something, will you let us know?” Patton asked gently. Roman sighed and nodded. The essentials of the basics for art supplies were cheap. He could get over that, probably. He focused back on transferring the drawing over while he listened to the show, occasionally looking up to watch. 

When he finished, he picked up everything and grabbed his phone to turn off the flashlight. He put it all on the side table next to the couch, took a seat to watch the program. He got enough of the sketch transferred, and he was much more interested in the show than sketching. The comedy distracted him and he wanted to put his feet up.

Roman enjoyed watching the show and checking out things on his phone again. It was something he’d gotten used to doing, and it was relaxing to him. Patton still thought it might be too much activity when he should be getting ready to settle down for bed, but it was the exact right amount of attention for him. He didn’t have to get distracted by anything he didn’t want to think about. 

He was enjoying having unfettered access to the internet. He could look up every stupid thing that came to his mind as long as he was on wi-fi. Roman felt the neat layered leather inset on the sleeve and pulled up his feet to lean against the couch contentedly. He watched Ron Swanson insult people while he researched reference images of cool swords to draw on his phone. Roman wasn’t sure, but he was nearly positive he caught Thomas looking at him out of the corner of his eye. What was that about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25 Warnings:  
> Food, Money Issues, Dogs, Self-Worth Issues, Negative Self-Image, Negative Self-Talk
> 
> Beta Read by [Jamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/profile) & [Anxielin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxielin/profile) & [Olly](https://ollyollyoxinfree.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	26. two-thirds of US teens are ready to throw down this second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is mad, nobody is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major warnings in the endnotes this time ✪

Roman exhaled with relief as he unloaded the textbooks he didn’t need into his locker at the end of the day. He still was so incredibly glad he only required the one textbook for his science homework due tomorrow. Short answer essay questions, because the teacher was the actual devil. He’d gotten back some of his homework today and it was lots of C’s, even though he tried to focus and do his best. 

He got back some homework he got help from Patton on with an A, at least, so he could possibly average out to a B instead of being a solid C student as usual. Not that he could ask Patton to help him again. He couldn’t bother them. He just had to… do better somehow. He managed a B on his own for one of the packets, so he could in theory. 

Roman closed his locker and hefted his bag off the floor, but jumped when he locked eyes with a guy leaning against the locker right in Roman’s face. Roman narrowed his eyes and looked the stranger up and down. He didn’t recognize him and had genuinely no idea why this guy was staring at him. Did they share a class? Roman had trouble remembering faces. 

“Can I… help you?” Roman inquired curiously. 

“What’s with the new look? Trying to pretend you’re interesting or something, now?” The guy sneered at him with a villainous grin. 

“That’s rich coming from a guy dressed up in a fancy peacoat,” Roman slid on his backpack and huffed at him, motioning to his coat. Was this even real life? This was so weird. 

“Hiding something?” He said, reaching out and plucking at Roman’s gloves. Roman twitched his hand back and scowled at him. He knew he’d regret wearing them at school, eventually. He thought they looked okay, certainly less obvious, with the leather jacket, and he didn’t wish to upset Thomas again by forgetting. Thomas reminded him multiple times to put them on that morning, and he couldn’t bring himself to take them off while he went to school as usual. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Roman rolled his eyes and threw his head. He spun around to walk off. He wasn’t stuck in a class with this asshole and had no reason to continue to tolerate this passive-aggressive bullshit. 

“I know,” The guy called after him. Roman couldn’t stop himself from stiffening his shoulders while he strode off. “I know what you’re hiding,” He continued. Roman swung to look at him. His expression was completely impassive and his bright hazel eyes felt piercing as they locked gazes. 

“Whatever,” Roman said dismissively and turned back around to leave. There wasn’t anything that this guy could extort from Roman. He didn’t have cash, and most of his possessions weren’t fancy. If he pretended it didn’t matter, then hopefully it wouldn’t. It had worked before. This guy clearly had problems to seek out Roman just to fucking bother him, and Roman didn’t need to make himself a part of this stranger’s issues. Roman waved at him and headed out the building to walk home. The guy didn’t follow or call after him again, so hopefully, it worked. 

Today was long, PE continued to be a nightmare of glares, and he slept like shit last night because he was so busy feeling guilty about Thomas buying him clothes. He wished to lie down and space out to something on TV. If he got lucky he could pass out to it. His feet freaking hurt and that guy annoyed the shit out of him, so he’d need to relax or his anger would get out of control again. He had that damn appointment soon, and that fucked with his mood enough so he needed to try to keep his cool. 

His mood was not as bad as Virgil’s, though. Virgil stormed past him on the sidewalk, looking as pissed as a hydra that had one of its heads lopped off. He had some paper crumpled in his fists and was slouched over, his hood hiding his dark hair and doubtlessly a very dour expression. Roman sped his pace to keep up with Virgil but kept a berth of a few feet. He wasn’t sure if he should ask or let him deal with it alone. Roman would rather be left alone, personally, so just making sure Virgil didn’t punch anything should be helpful enough. 

Virgil grimaced as he fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and unlocked the front door. He stomped upstairs and slammed his bedroom door before Roman got halfway up. He ambled into his own bedroom and left the door open, in the event Virgil desired to vent or something, and dropped his backpack at his desk. Roman flopped down on the bed and exhaled tiredly. He kicked off his shoes with his toes and considered if he wanted to watch the TV downstairs or on his phone. It’s about all he had the mental capacity to do right now. 

Sitting there and thinking about doing things was more effort than he had. He was fucking tired, annoyed at that prick, worried about Virgil, and his feet which were fully healed were being bastards and aching for no good reason. Was it too much to ask to just stop existing for a while? Even twenty minutes? Roman needed a god damn break like he needed oxygen. Too drained for TV wasn’t exactly a new low, but still some grade-A bullshit. At least he didn’t have to be watching kids right now. 

“Hey, do you know what that was about?” Thomas asked, knocking on Roman’s open door. Roman leaned up and looked over to him. 

“No, no clue,” Roman shrugged and sighed. 

“He’s not answering his texts. Would you mind…?” Thomas trailed off and pointed to Virgil’s room from the doorway. 

“What?” Roman raised a haircut at him. 

“Translating for him?” Thomas finished somewhat awkwardly. “I mean... if he’s okay with it. I’m hoping he’ll respond in person,” He added sheepishly. 

“Um, no, I don’t mind,” Roman sat back up and got up from the bed. Thomas shifted a door over and knocked on it while Roman stared curiously at Thomas. 

“Virgil? I’m opening the door,” Thomas announced. Roman stepped up behind him while Thomas paused. He pushed it open and Virgil was sitting on the floor against the bed, with his arms wrapped around his bed and his makeup smudged. “I brought Roman to translate if that’s okay,” Thomas said. Roman finally got a chance to look into Virgil’s office. He had a surprising amount of things, but the room had a similar setup in that it had a full-sized bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a desk, other than the fact that he had a big bean bag in the corner. But there were plenty of little decorations, old toys, and other possessions littered about the area. He had posters up, some bands Roman didn’t recognize and a _Donnie Darko_ poster, which is weird, because Roman was certain that movie was rated R. Virgil’s sheets were royal purple and he had a black throw and pillowcases on it. Virgil didn’t acknowledge Roman or Thomas and stared blankly ahead. “What happened? Are you okay?” Thomas asked, looking concerned and conflicted in the doorway. 

“School,” Roman said as Virgil signed sluggishly. Virgil sighed and leaning back against the bed, looking more exhausted than pissed now. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes slightly hollow. 

“Did something happen at school?” Thomas urged him to open up softly, holding on to the door frame. Virgil took up the crumpled paper and held it up. Thomas stepped in to take it and examined it. It looked to be an essay, but there was a big red zero on the top and a stamp for where the parent had to sign to prove they’d seen the grade. Roman flinched involuntarily seeing that, grimacing. Thomas skimmed the paper swiftly. “It’s okay if you got a bad grade, but I have to admit I don’t see what’s wrong about this essay. Did you go off-topic or something?” Thomas asked with a confused expression, flipping it over to the other side. 

“Oral presentation,” Roman translated for Virgil. Virgil grimaced, dropping his face into his knees and taking hold of his legs again, flopping his hoodie down. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas scratched his eyebrows, appearing to be reading the essay. “This looks fine to me,” He commented, flipping the pages back and straightening them out. 

“I think he means it was supposed to be an oral presentation, and the teacher failed him because he couldn’t present,” Roman suggested sourly and Virgil nodded slowly in confirmation. Thomas stiffened and his eyes widened right away. 

“What a complete and absolute bitch!” Thomas intoned acridly. “Don’t let Patton know I said bitch in presence of you,” He added quickly and ran his hand through his mane. “How dare they, honestly? This teacher is likely still at the school, right?” Roman backed up and nodded, not a fan of this angry energy Thomas was putting out. “Alright, come on, both of you. I’m not leaving either of you alone, but I’m not letting them get away with this,” Thomas hissed. “Get your shoes back on, Roman,” He said, but Roman was a little freaked out and couldn’t react. Virgil curled in on himself on the floor. Thomas inhaled and exhaled gently. “I’m sorry, boys. Please, let’s go. You don’t deserve this grade, Virgil. We need to set this right,” Thomas said much more evenly and Virgil and both let out a tense breath. 

Roman backed out of the doorway and shuffled into his bedroom to slide on his shoes. He didn’t want to walk anymore, but he also didn’t have it in him to contest Thomas. He looked intense, and that was extremely unnerving to Roman. It was usually safer and easier just to follow along, even if he didn’t understand why he had to go. It wasn’t as if he was going to hurt himself or whatever, he only wanted to take a nap and sulk. Though maybe Thomas could see something in Roman that he didn’t. He had to admit he was in a trash mood, and that could make Thomas nervous. Roman pulled himself up off the bed with a pained huff. He headed downstairs and waited for Thomas and Virgil. They came downstairs a few moments later and headed out. 

His feet hurt, so Roman limped every few steps on the way there. Thomas was a full-grown adult and Virgil had long spider legs, so their natural pace was quick compared to Roman’s limping gait and he had to be careful about not falling behind. Thomas was rushing and gripping the essay in his hands. Virgil had his hood up again and was holding himself as he followed behind Thomas. He looked sullen at best, grasping his hoodie with pale knuckles and staring morosely at the concrete below them as they walked. 

They reached the school swiftly due to their long legs and frustrated pace. Virgil led them over to the junior hall and to the teacher’s classroom silently, Roman tagging behind them nervously. Thomas fell on the open classroom door and entered with his shoulders high. Roman slid in to sit down and put out his feet, but Virgil hid behind Thomas and rubbed his arm restlessly. 

“Excuse me? Mr. Brennan. I’m Mr. Sanders, Virgil McNaught’s guardian?” Thomas got the teacher’s attention, standing firm in face of the desk. 

“All you had to do was to sign the paper, Mr. Sanders, you didn’t need to come in,” The teacher said, sounding very tired as he examined the failed essay in Thomas’s hand. 

“I’m here because you can’t give Virgil a zero for being unable to present vocally,” Thomas said coolly, dropping the paper on the teacher’s desk. 

“You’ll find I can. It is not my job to make shy children come out of their shells. He chose not to present,” Mr. Brennan responded, tapping the desk with his pen and looking annoyed. 

“He is not able to speak, and that is a very important distinction. Virgil still provided the presentation in a way he was capable of doing,” Thomas poked the essay on the desk and Virgil shrank back slightly. 

“I wasn’t made aware of a 504 plan for the student,” The teacher replied, sounding frustrated and rubbing his nose under his glasses. 

“Virgil shouldn’t _need_ that for you to know that he can’t talk and thus can’t give an oral presentation,” Thomas insisted angrily, crossing his arms. 

“He _does_ , technically,” Mr. Brennan’s tone sounded bored. Roman stared at him from across the room. 

“I don’t care about _technicalities_. This still violates the spirit of the ADA and we’re already actively working on getting a diagnosis,” Thomas shot bitterly, standing stiffly and possibly joining Roman in the glare from the slight hunch. 

“Listen, he’s not the first quiet kid I’ve ever seen. He’s got the look and everything,” The teacher motioned to Virgil and arched an eyebrow. Roman gritted his teeth, biting back an insult. “How do you know he’s not lying to you, too?” He demanded incredulously and jumped when Roman’s fist slammed down on the table. If he had ever given anyone a death glare, he was sure giving it to this asshole. Thomas glanced behind him at Roman. “Please control your entourage, Mr. Sanders, it’s after hours,” Mr. Brennan said warily and rubbed his head again. 

“Roman has every single right to be upset, just like I am! He cannot talk. And as it happens, that’s not your place to assume or judge. Boys, come on, we’re going to the main’s office,” Thomas growled slightly as he spoke with firm conviction. Virgil was completely curled into himself and breathing hard. Roman got up and stood between Virgil and Mr. Brennan without hesitating, staring him down. 

“Leave him alone,” Roman hissed menacingly to the teacher, balling up his fists. 

“Roman, that’s enough,” Thomas stopped Roman, putting his hand on his shoulder. He would have preferred to shrug it off, but it was grounding and Roman was barely containing himself as he bared his teeth at the schoolteacher. “An infringement of the ADA is a fire-able offense. The principal can do much worse than you,” Thomas added evenly, though his other hand was clenched tightly. 

“It’s not an invasion of the ADA without a diagnosis, Mr. Sanders,” He sighed with exasperation, flipping his hand out towards Virgil as he rested his head on one arm. 

“Once we have a diagnosis, that’s something completely trivial for my lawyer to handle,” Thomas stared him down, standing resolutely. Roman glanced back at Virgil and he didn’t seem to be doing any better. Roman shrugged Thomas off and walked behind him, squatting down to the floor to face Virgil. He fell on the ground with his knuckles and Virgil’s eyes shot up. 

‘Hallway,’ Roman signed and Virgil nodded slowly, swallowing hard. His forehead was sweaty, and he looked kind of sick. 

“The school doesn’t have any money for you to sue for. This is a public school, we’re lucky we have running water,” The teacher sounded more fatigued than before, leaning heavily on his hand and scowling. 

“I don’t want money, I want fair treatment for my- for Virgil! I don’t need money, I need you not to treat children like liars! This bullshit is why kids are hurting so much and I’m not standing for it!” Thomas shot fiercely, only barely controlling his volume. Roman held his arm out and protected Virgil as he made his way to the hall. Thomas followed after them after he finished his tirade, holding the essay again. 

“I’m really sorry, Virgil. I’ll make sure this gets solved. Can you breathe?” Thomas asked much more softly, keeping a safe distance from Virgil. Roman stayed within a foot of him, entirely on edge but ready to throw down at any second if anyone even looked at Virgil funny. He’d gotten his ass beat for foster siblings before and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, and he couldn’t use but default to that when he was stressed and Virgil was panicking. Virgil nodded weakly and choked a bit, continuing to shake and grip himself too hard. 

“Let’s all take some deep breaths, okay? I could use it, too. I’m going to count on my hand and you two can follow my lead,” Thomas suggested, putting the essay under his arm and holding up four fingers and starting to breathe in, counting on his fingers. Roman followed suit with his fists gripped tightly. It took plenty of cycles, but the time for each slowly increased and Roman eventually calmed down a bit. Virgil had stopped shaking as well, though his bangs were still holding to his forehead and he looked completely drained, the dark circles under his eyes visible under the makeup. 

‘Fuck that guy,’ Roman signed to Virgil with a half-smile on his face, but he couldn’t manage to suppress the grimace much. Virgil nodded bitterly and glanced at Thomas. 

“Let’s go to the administrative office. You two can wait on the court out front, just stay together and keep each other safe, all right?” Thomas requested, motioning with his head down out of the junior hall. 

“Way ahead of you,” Roman muttered darkly under his breath. Virgil stuck close to Roman in the hall instead of keeping his normal few feet of distance. 

Virgil dropped to the bench right outside of the front office with a fatigued exhale. Roman stood, not sure if Virgil needed his space on the bench and helpless against the tension in his body. Thomas marched in the administrative office and advanced directly into the principal’s office without waiting for the currently absent secretary to let him in. Roman tapped his fingers on his jacket as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight around on his feet from time to time. 

Virgil’s arm eventually reached out and yanked at Roman’s jacket, forcing him to sit and then scooting over, less than a foot between them. Roman exhaled painfully, his rib acting up. Maybe watching him twitch restlessly wasn’t helping Virgil. Roman uncrossed his arms and wrung his hands slowly instead. Virgil leaned forward on his legs and stared at the floor despondently. 

That motherfucker in the open peacoat with the brown and gold shirt passed in the hall and regarded Roman curiously. Roman glowered at him, doing his best to communicate not to fuck with him right now with his eyes. Roman barely contained his need to fight as it is. The guy paused and looked Roman up and down before he walked up, which meant this person didn’t get the picture. It felt like an invitation that Roman wanted to rip into shreds. 

“Acting out again?” He said smoothly, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. _Again_? This _fucker_. Roman didn’t know what he knew or how he knew, but he clenched his teeth and balled his fists against his thighs. “Oh, you don’t _enjoy_ being-” Roman socked him right in the fucking face. He was standing over him and breathing hard before he was even aware of what he was doing. The person in the peacoat stumbled back and hissed in pain, holding his eye. 

“Good!” Roman shot loudly, raising his arms. “Get the fuck out of here before I come over there and finish the job,” Roman spat, cracking his knuckles stepping forward. The guy scampered off hurriedly and Roman growled and ran both his hands through his mane and scratched aggressively at his scalp. He held himself and started pacing. 

Virgil gripped his sleeve while he passed and yanked him down on the bench again, shooting him a furtive glance. Roman sighed and grasped his legs. The combination of jeans and gloves stopped him from feeling his nails pressing through the material and he groaned quietly in frustration, eyeballing the direction that prick head ran off in. He loved to chase that kid and go for round two. He longed to go fight him so much it buzzed in his muscles painfully. 

Roman reached up and scratched at his head once more. He was just as awful as his fucking dad. Roman held his head in his palms and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his face roughly in frustration. Virgil yanked at Roman’s sleeve and removed Roman’s hands from himself. Oh. Right. Roman nodded to Virgil in thanks. His skin felt raw from the leather gloves, but he probably didn’t hurt as much as that kid’s eye did. Roman squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his jacket, trying to stop attacking himself. What the hell was wrong with him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 26 Warnings:  
> Grades, Bullying, Harassment, Anger, Shouting, Bad Teachers, Ableism (major), Threats, Panic Attacks, Child Abuse Reference, Anger Issues, Violence, Public School Awfulness™, Derogatory Language, Pain, Unconscious Mild Self-Harm, Negative Self-Language, Negative Self-Image
> 
> I know for a fact some of y’all have big triggers for this stuff so here’s a TL;DR and a Summary for those who want to skip or be prepared.
> 
> **TL;DR:** Everyone (Virgil, Roman, Thomas) angy. Ableism against Virgil. Roman punches a person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong (see: antagonistic) attitude.
> 
> **Summary:** Roman worries about grades. Gets harassed by a student for the new wardrobe but Roman chooses to just walk away. He heads home with Virgil but Virgil rushed home ahead, pissed off. Thomas asks Roman to translate because Virgil won’t respond texts and he wants to try talking. Virgil admits he’s mad because he got a zero on an oral presentation. Thomas is pissed off and drags the boys back to school because he doesn’t want to leave them alone (they both clearly Not Alright™) and needs to talk to the teacher. The teacher does not listen to Thomas. Virgil has a panic attack and Roman is so pissed off he can barely contain himself. Thomas talked them through a breathing exercise and escalates to the principal, leaving Roman and Virgil on the bench to watch after each other. The student from earlier comes back to harass Roman. Roman decks him and threatens him so the student runs off. Virgil pulls Roman back down to sit on the bench.
> 
> Thank you to [Jamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/pseuds/midge1) for beta-ing this chapter!


	27. overstimulated teen appreciates the existence of dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Roman is just having a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in endnotes, I'd consider checking them.

Thomas ran his hand through his hair and exhaled as he exited the front office. He still looked restless and upset. Roman rubbed his hand through the gloves and Virgil slumped over again. Thomas eyed them, his eyes lingering on Roman’s hair. Probably realizing it’s completely messed up. Roman felt it sitting oddly on his head. He picked a strand of hair off the gloves and couldn’t meet Thomas’s eyes.

“… Roman?” Thomas asked quietly. Roman just nodded and stood up. Virgil stood up slowly and started walking out the door. Thomas pressed his lip into a line and hummed disquietly. “Is everything okay?” Thomas followed up, moving to keep up with Virgil. Roman shook his head slightly and walked forward. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He added, looking pointedly at Roman.

“Not particularly,” Roman slid his hands into his pockets and hurried up, trying to catch up to Virgil.

“Did something happen?” Thomas raised an eyebrow. Virgil shook his head and buried himself in his hoodie, pulling up his hood and shoving his hands in his pockets. Roman just shrugged in response. “Did the gloves stay on?” Thomas looked concerned at Roman, shooting his eyes down to Roman’s hands before looking back at Roman’s face.

“Physically, yes,” Roman said with a small nod. “ _Proverbially_ , not so much,” He added under his breath. He gripped his arms tightly and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Thomas sighed and looked resigned, facing forward to walk home.

“Virgil, you’re transferring classes and another teacher will grade your essay. I made it clear to the school we won’t tolerate discrimination and for the time being, the teachers are to treat you as if you already had a 504 plan enacted and won’t ask you to speak or present things,” Thomas explained what happened in the office.

Virgil froze, maybe processing the information. Thomas paused in confusion and Roman did, too. Virgil looked disbelievingly at Thomas for a moment and bit his lip. Virgil stepped over and gave the fastest hug Roman had ever seen and jumped back. He started walking backward and signed at them.

“Don’t read into this,” Roman translated for Virgil. Virgil swiftly turned around to face forward and kept up his brisk walking pace. Roman and Thomas were stuck into place for a moment, completely blindsided by that sudden and unexpected display of gratitude from Virgil. Thomas seemed pleased, though. They picked up quickly before Virgil got too far off, though, with his damn long spider legs.

“Let’s… get delivery tonight,” Thomas said awkwardly. “Maybe rent a movie. I think we could all use something low-key. What do you want to eat?” Thomas added hopefully.

“Protein,” Roman grunted. Virgil held his hands above his head and signed while he kept facing forward. “Virgil wants salt,” Roman translated the hand sign.

“Care to narrow it down any?” Thomas asked, not sounding particularly pleased with that answer.

“You want hot wings?” Roman confirmed with Virgil, and Virgil stuck out his hand and signed yes. “We want hot wings,” He informed Thomas firmly.

“That’s not really a complete meal,” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows and crooked his lip.

“I’ll continue to eat whatever you put in front of me,” Roman replied bitterly and shrugged. He just wanted to eat something that let him be aggressive, and it was the first thing that came to mind. Thomas’s sigh sounded defeated and Roman felt bad.

“Alright, I’ll ask Patton to pick up some sides on the way home,” Thomas replied, sounding positive despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

“Thanks for helping,” Roman muttered and bumped Thomas’s arm with his lightly. He’d never seen a foster parent fight for a kid so hard before. “It’s really nice of you,” He added quietly.

“What was that?” Thomas looked over to Roman, his face now plastered with a pleased expression instead of frustration.

“I… _thanks_ , is all,” Roman looked down at the sidewalk, noticing he was limping a bit again trying to keep the weight off the ball of his right foot. Roman exhaled, still ready to punch something but also just longing to lay the fuck down. He was exhausted, drained, tired, and just done. Today should be set on fire.

The rest of the walk back was tense and uncomfortable. Roman wasn’t always the best at reading the room, but Virgil’s shoulders were stiff and Thomas kept eying both of them carefully or maybe even suspiciously. But Roman wasn’t admitting he let his anger get the best of him again. He had been doing really well about not lashing out. And as much as he’d like to out and say it and get punished, he didn’t really want to say it out loud.

If anything, he was grateful Virgil dropped it as he did. Though if Virgil told on him, he wouldn’t blame him. After he saw Virgil freak out, it was just like he was a little kid again, trying to stand up to his dad to protect Remus. Or Missy and his sister, a few years later. Nate and Chris after that. Roman squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, unable to deal with it. He stumbled and had to open them again to catch himself.

“Roman, you doing alright?” Thomas asked, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder and Roman flinched away violently. Thomas pulled back and frowned. “Keep breathing evenly,” He said softly and Roman nodded.

“Sorry,” Roman whispered. He didn’t mean to pull back like that or worry Thomas so much. His mind just felt even more out of control than usual and couldn’t take anything else.

“It’s okay, Roman. Are you sure nothing happened?” Thomas asked quietly. Roman shrugged again dismissively. He didn’t want to tell the truth or lie directly. The best he had was not addressing it.

“Feet hurt,” Roman mumbled in explanation for his near-tumble.

“I think it might be more than that,” Thomas suggested, pulling his lip to the side disbelievingly.

“It is,” Roman chewed his lip for a moment. “I’ll be okay in a bit, I think,” Roman tried his hardest to sound contrite and reassuring, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

“All right, I’ll trust you,” Thomas said with a small smile. Thank god he didn’t want to push it any further than that. Roman tried his damnedest to keep his anger issues under-wraps and to himself. Now Virgil and that one antagonistic guy knew he was a piece of shit. It’s a good thing people were cleared out. Though that kid could tell on Roman. He was fine with detention or in-school suspension, though. He kind of preferred in-school suspension. Fewer lectures and walking around.

Roman was okay with the consequences of his actions. It’s how life is supposed to work. He just wasn’t okay with… opening his mouth and saying he was no better than his dad. Even if he knew it was true. Roman bit his tongue and chewed on it for a moment. It always came back around to being a terrible human being, didn’t it?

Thomas got to the front door first and unlocked it, heading inside. He paused in the living room and Virgil went right upstairs with a brief nod Thomas’s way. Virgil at least looked better. Roman slowly made his way up the stairs behind him.

“Roman, are you sure you don’t want to stay down here?” Thomas asked carefully. He obviously had a preference for Roman’s location and normally Roman would be fine with complying and staying nearby, but he just couldn’t take being near people right now.

“I want to lie down. I’ll keep the gloves on, I promise,” Roman held up his crossed fingers. “Trust me?” He asked after a moment of Thomas looking worried. Thomas just said he did a few minutes ago.

“I trust you,” Thomas sighed, nodding lightly. “Text me if you even think you might panic, okay?” Thomas asked pleadingly, his face set in a deep frown.

“Yeah,” Roman exhaled harshly and continued his way up the stairs.

Roman closed the room door behind him and kicked off his shoes right away. He leaned against the wall to carefully take off his socks without hurting his rib. Then he took off his jacket and carefully folded it on the back of his desk chair and crawled into bed. It was so wonderful he could barely take it.

He buried himself under every blanket and even his pillow, sprawled out flat to not hurt his ribs and took as deep a breath as he could manage. It couldn’t decide if he relished this or hated it. Wasn’t that the eternal sunshine of his life, though? He hated that he punched that guy. He hated how good it felt and how satisfying it was. That was his whole damn problem. He was a wreck who had no control over his emotions, and he felt things so strongly it hurt sometimes.

Thomas wouldn’t trap him up here, probably. He could just go if he wanted to. He was stressed. He always wanted to run when he was stressed. But his feet hurt and his rib would be worse than sore if he tried again. He’d run on a broken leg before and it probably isn’t as painful as that, but he wasn’t looking to emulate the experience. He didn’t know how to reprogram his head to tell him his room was safe. If he did, he would have done it already. Well, he could go somewhere they couldn’t reach him in the room and maybe he could calm down. He was his problem and he couldn’t run from himself, so he may as well try to deal.

Roman grabbed his throw and his pillow and slipped off the bed to the floor. There was nothing stored under here and it was spacious enough. As long as he can get out he shouldn’t freak out about being locked in. Sliding under on his stomach would be easier, but his rib wouldn’t have that on a good day. Instead, Roman gripped the bed frame and pulled himself under, taking his blanket and pillow under there with him. It was not that bad under here. He couldn’t sit up or anything, but there was enough room to feel okay. Though it helped that it was open on two sides and easy to get out of. Roman mostly felt claustrophobic when he couldn’t escape, and he knew he could leave from under the bed and his room at any time.

He tugged the throw over himself and plucked his phone out of his jeans pocket. He loaded up the streaming service Patton gave him the login for the other day and scrolled the shows. He had his own user icon and he could watch anything that wasn’t rated R. The concept of picking his own show to watch was novel enough, but there were plenty of interesting shows. He picked a series that had a chick with a sword and slid his phone into a slat of the bed frame to hold it up to watch. He had seen what felt like every cartoon on the planet while babysitting and watching something he was in the target age for sounded nice.

A text from Thomas interrupted the show with the menu a few minutes later. Roman pressed the alert and checked out the menu Thomas sent. There were plenty of kinds of wing sauces, but he wasn’t sure what was an okay amount to order. He picked the smallest amount and a vinegary heat kind of sauce and texted it back to Thomas. Thomas told him to order more right away. He chewed the inside of his cheek and checked out the menu further. Maybe just a larger order of wings? Did he mean an appetizer? Roman requested garlic bread, which seemed to sate Thomas’s ‘feeding Roman’ agenda, though he also said he was ordering Roman more wings. Those kept safely in the fridge, so maybe having leftovers from them wasn’t a big deal. He could just eat them after school. Roman slid the phone back up and resumed the show.

He admittedly wouldn’t mind something else to do while he watched, but there wasn’t much room down here. He fiddled with the blanket and it slipped between his gloves while he watched. He also played with the bed frame slats, pulling himself up with his arms a few times just because it was fun. He tried to tuck his toes in the slats to elevate his feet, but they kept slipping out.

The show was cool though, and even though he was a fidgeting mess, he mostly spaced into it. Maybe he could pick back up crochet or something just have something to do down here. He was into this little private theater. He still wasn’t into himself and how awful he was, but that wasn’t new or anything. Eventually, his brain would get bored with ragging on him and he could get on with life. Well, hopefully anyway.

“Roman, dinner’s here,” Thomas knocked on the door a few episodes later, shaking Roman from his TV fugue.

“Thanks,” Roman called out. He paused the show, looking at the time. Geez, he’s been down here for two hours. He didn’t feel like running anymore, so maybe it worked? He was still in a shit mood and feeling down on himself, but that’s just life. He deserved it, after all. All that guy did was talk to him. Roman was really- Roman scratched at his scalp ineffectively and groaned in frustration. He gripped his arms and squeezed his eyes shut to cut himself off and exhaled painfully. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and used the bed slats to pull himself out from under the bed, gripping the blanket and pillow between his knees to take them with him. Roman put his pillow back and folded up the throw before heading downstairs.

“Hey, kiddo! You’ve been holed up in your room all evening, you doin’ alright?” Patton asked when Roman entered the kitchen.

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for getting hot wings for us, Thomas,” Roman nodded to him and went to the cupboard to help set the table. He noticed the cups of water that were normally out when he came down weren’t there yet. He pulled down glasses one by one and put them on the counter, but the last one slipped and he fumbled trying to catch it. He stopped it from hitting the counter but froze in place, holding it wide-eyed and breathing hard.

“Good catch, Roman! Very nice reflexes!” Patton congratulated him and then stopped and got a good look at his face. “How about I take over this for you, champ, and you can get started on dinner,” Roman nodded and slowly lowered the cup to the counter and went to go sit down, catching his breath.

Thomas pulled out the wings from the bag and placed them in the center, taking off the lids and the small plastic containers of roast vegetables, coleslaw, and what looked like street corn. The coleslaw was one of those textures he really, really hated. Today was just a cluster. Roman half considered just going back upstairs and laying under the bed again, but the hot wings smelled awesome. He just had to convince his stomach to unclench after nearly breaking a glass. Patton smiled and pushed a cup of water in front of Roman.

“You can start eating, Roman. Thomas is already at it, see?” Patton motioned to Thomas with an amused expression.

“Huh?” Thomas looked up at them and he already had sauce around his mouth from his food.

“Uh, Virgil isn’t here,” Roman made up an excuse on the spot. He wasn’t ready to eat yet.

“That’s okay, kiddo, he said he wanted to finish the chapter he was reading, he’ll be down in a skip and a hop. He reads devilishly fast,” Patton said. Roman shuttered at the adverb. It’s just one of those days, huh, where everything sets him off. Maybe he should have stayed hiding under the bed. He grumbled quietly to himself and leaned on his arm.

Roman leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath, serving himself up a little of everything like he was supposed to. He wanted to get the crap out of the way and started on the half serving of coleslaw. He shivered when it hit his palate and just swallowed. Chewing it was an event he wished he was not taking part in.

“Roman, that’s not very much food. Won’t you take some more?” Patton said, looking down at Roman’s plate.

“… Do I have to?” Roman said carefully. If he had to eat more than a half serving of coleslaw wasn’t sure he’d be able to even stomach hot wings. Stomaching anything right now was another event he would very much like to skip out on as it is.

“I would like it if you did,” Patton said nicely and Roman sighed heavily and reached out to grab some more food.

“Hold up. Are you protesting because you don’t want to eat or because there’s something here you don’t like you’re forcing yourself to eat?” Thomas asked, looking too serious for a guy with sauce on a face. Roman looked down at the plate.

“The latter. I’m sorry, I’ll-” Roman started and Thomas cut him off right away.

“You don’t have to eat anything that you don’t want to, Roman. If you don’t like something you don’t have to serve it to yourself. Why would you?” Thomas asked. Roman paused and when he realized why he did, he felt like an absolute idiot. Roman sighed and leaned back, rubbing his face with the leather pulling at his skin.

“Because I’m stupid,” Roman muttered.

“You’re not stupid, Roman. Why do you think you’re stupid?” Patton asked nicely.

“Because you guys wouldn’t… It’s just a habit, I guess, then, that I was too-” Patton’s sudden expression change stopped Roman from rambling. Patton pouted at Roman and raised his eyebrow. “Well, that it should have occurred to me isn’t a ‘thing’ people do,” Roman raised his hand and motioned to the food.

“I’m pretty lost, there, kiddo,” Patton said, looking confused. Thomas nodded in agreement.

“Um, fair,” Roman shrugged. “If you didn’t eat everything in front of you, you were ungrateful and didn’t get to eat the next meal. You guys are always trying to feed me, that doesn’t really make sense when I actually stop to think about it…” Roman trailed off slightly and slumped in his seat. “Two different foster families had that rule and then after that food was so hard to come by… I just never stopped to think if I don’t like something I don’t have to serve it to myself. I could have saved myself so many stomach aches,” Roman chuckled weakly.

“What do you not like?” Thomas asked, glancing around the table.

“The coleslaw,” Roman sighed despondently. “I can finish it, it’s okay,” He reassured them, reaching with his fork towards it again.

“Nope! You don’t have to finish it, period. It’s barely any to throw out,” Patton smiled and pointed to the food and Roman froze in his spot.

“That’s… that’s food,” Roman replied incredulously. Thomas and Patton shared a look of confusion.

“Very observant, but I’m afraid we don’t see what you’re getting at,” Thomas replied after a pause of loud silence.

“You can’t just throw out good food, that’s a waste,” Roman pointed out, motioning with both hands to the food.

“Roman, it’s a spoonful. It’s fine,” Thomas said, sounding equally confused. It was the least fine thing Roman could think of the moment.

“No, no, it’s not,” Roman gripped his fork hard and dropped it and moved to rub his arms instead, concerned about holding a fork at this point. “I don’t-” Roman grunted and rubbed his arms harder. “I can just finish it, okay? Please?” Roman begged quietly.

“Are you… okay, champ?” Patton asked quietly, putting down his fork and reaching over and putting his hand near Roman. He couldn’t take them looking at him anymore and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please, I’ll be good,” Roman muttered, and he wasn’t sure where it came from. He looked around the room automatically.

“Compromise. I finish the coleslaw so it doesn’t get wasted and you don’t have to eat it,” Thomas said resolutely, reaching over to pick up Roman’s plate and scraping off the coleslaw onto his plate.

“Wha- germs?” Roman asked, still feeling like he was reeling. He looked at Thomas with eyes wide.

“You’re probably fine,” Thomas shrugged and ate the big bite of coleslaw. Roman just stared at him for a moment, completely unable to process anything.

“That’s- you’re- I,” Roman stumbled over his words hastily, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“Roman, breathe please,” Patton said softly, putting his hand on the table next to Roman.

“That was an option?” Roman breathed, slumping in his chair and holding his head.

“You holding up alright? Do you want some help or do you just want to breathe it out?” Patton asked, leaden with concern and face furrowed with worry.

“I- help?” Roman didn’t really know what he meant.

“Where’s your head right now?” Patton followed up and Thomas gripped the table, looking sure of what to do.

“I, um, you, uh, don’t…” Roman muttered. Patton didn’t want to know. Roman didn’t know how to say Patton didn’t want to know. All those times… All of those god damn times… “Couch,” Roman said after a pause and got up slowly. 

He limped over to the couch and flopped face down on it and covered his ears. He needed a minute to just… not exist. He was so incredibly and painfully done with today that his whole body hurt and his brain was on fire. They’d probably get him in a bit. He was too done to think about anything but the next few minutes. In his opinion, face down on the couch was the only option.

“Lita, up,” He heard Patton say, though it was muffled through his hands. Lita hopped up on the couch and walked right up to Roman’s back, laying down. Okay, he could accept a dog, but everything else in the world he was done with. The dog was good. It was hard to be as mad with a dog right there. The world doesn’t deserve dogs. He still wanted to punch and kick and scream and fight. But he was too done to do anything about it. His body was done with his bullshit and that was so damn valid of it.

Lita was warm. Almost hot. That was okay. Roman let his hands slip from his ears and just did his best limp body impression on the couch, turning his head so it was easier to breathe. The couch was soft, but the pressure on his rib was still unpleasant, but he didn’t care. He’d probably regret that later. But right now he was going to become one with the couch and could not be stopped. His nerves were on fire and he couldn’t take being present anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 27 Warnings:  
> Anger Issues, Ableism (minor), Food, Pain, Child Abuse References, Food Issues, Confined Space, Self-Worth Issues, Negative Self-Image, Negative Self-Talk, Feelings of Deserving Suffering, Coping Poorly, Unsafe Stims, Sensory Overload, Shutdown, Food Insecurity Mention, Forcing Self to Eat, Desire to be punished.
> 
> Thanks to [Lord Apollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/pseuds/midge1) for Beta'ing!


	28. 88% of all twins relish the chance for twin-related vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remus ascend human language barriers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excessive warnings in the endnotes

Roman drummed his fingers on the hard table and looked between Patton and Thomas curiously. It was absolutely great he was here to see Remus again, but it surprised him when Thomas wanted to tag along. They rarely left Virgil or Roman at home alone, it seemed odd they would leave Virgil alone in the house for over two hours. Well, unless they were planning on leaving earlier today to get back sooner. Roman hoped they weren’t. It felt like they were only there ten minutes last time. He didn’t want to leave early.

Thomas looked upset about something and Roman chewed on his lip as drummed on the table nervously, the gloves dampening the sound. Was Thomas mad about wasting time on this? He did work often. Thomas watched Roman tap the table for a minute before clearing his throat. Roman’s eyes shot up from staring at his fingers to Thomas and he pulled his hands in and sat up straight automatically.

“I’m not annoyed at _you_ , Roman. Pat’s just trying to steamroll me about something,” Thomas stated, shooting a glance at Patton. How the fuck…?

“Am _not_!” Patton insisted sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers.

“Oh, _very_ convincing,” Thomas rolled his eyes. Their bickering would be much more uncomfortable if Roman wasn’t busy being baffled by Thomas’s freaking mind-reading powers.

“Remus Reinhart!” A guard shouted, and Remus burst through the door, shooting a look to the guard who nodded. Roman’s back shot straight and he looked to Remus walking through the door.

“Ro!” Remus held open his arms and called out excitedly.

“Re!” Roman shot up from the seat and beamed at him.

“I have bribed the guard with chocolates to get a five-second hug, so get the fuck over here!” Remus beamed and Roman didn’t waste any time to rush over and hug Remus. Remus squeezed him a little too tight for his rib, but he did not give a damn, a fuck, or care in any way whatsoever. “Five,” Remus announced, and Roman pulled back quickly and couldn’t help but return Remus’s manic grin. They sat down at the table together.

“How do you bribe a guard with chocolates? They’re _adults_ ,” Roman whispered and shot a glance to the guard.

“Probably just some power trip shit. Who cares. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a good hug?” Remus flipped his hand dismissively.

“Ah, I’m going to guess the day they separated us,” Roman estimated and held his rib, which was pulsing in pain now.

“Bingo-bango you win a mango!” Remus snickered and held an imaginary mango out. Roman accepted the nonexistent fruit with a flourish. “So who’s the new stiff?” Remus leaned against the table and motioned to Thomas with his head.

Thomas raised his eyebrow at Remus curiously. “I’m Thomas, I’m Roman’s other foster guardian,” He nodded to Remus cordially.

“He’s cool. He found me this bitchin’ jacket,” Roman held up his arm to let Remus see the scale insets on the sleeves.

“Dude,” Remus glanced at the guard, probably for permission. The guard nodded and Remus reached out to feel the leather scales. “It looks like you murdered a dragon and are wearing its corpse as a trophy, that’s so _metal_ ,” The guard cleared his throat and Remus sat back again. He must have some kind of rapport with that guard. “Speaking of clothes, did you get the goods?” Remus looked at Patton with an intense expression.

“Yup!” Patton smiled and pushed over the bag with Remus’s things in it. He dug out the bag of chips immediately and started snacking on them. He held out the small bag to share the chips Roman put up his hand and shook his head to decline. He wouldn’t dare take food from Remus.

“Thanks!” Remus conveyed his appreciation through a mouth full of chips. “So, gloves?” Remus pointed the bag at Roman’s hands.

“I did something… uh…” Roman trailed off for a moment and glanced at Patton and Thomas. “Fenmar telten mer nalta me,” He finished in the nonsense language they made up to the best of his memory. It was a disjointed mess already, so he hoped Remus understood the meaning.

“No, you too?” Remus swallowed and gaped at Roman for a moment. “Damn, if I didn’t know you were coming, I’d normally have done something similar. Didn’t want to get my time cut short,” Remus nodded sagely. Seemed like he comprehended just fine. “But what’s that have to do with gloves?” He pointed again with a potato chip.

“Been on edge about it and that makes Thomas nervous,” Roman muttered and rubbed his arm. Thomas shrugged guiltily at the edge of Roman’s vision. “Doesn’t matter. He was saying shit,” Roman added privately.

“Hey, that’s a motto here! ‘Say shit, get hit!’” Remus chortled grimly. Roman rolled his eyes towards Patton and Thomas and Remus looked over and cackled again. “So is ‘snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches like bitches’,” Remus flipped his hand and shoved a handful of chips in his mouth, trying to play it off and apologizing at the same time. If they didn’t draw attention to it, then they probably wouldn’t catch on.

“Good mottos for life. Jet used to say, ‘Life’s a party bus. Ride it, but don’t get thrown under it’ and it’s such a mood. Like, aren’t we all fighting to stay on the fucking bus or mad about staying off?” Roman complained flippantly, leaning against the table on his elbow.

“I’m gonna ride the party bus so hard when I get out of here,” Remus hissed in delight. “Catch me in a park on a swing with custard singing at the top of my lungs playing _Gameboy_ and knitting with my feet. I am so _bored_ I made _Tetris_ pieces by folding paper, holy fucking shit,” He huffed in frustration, flicking his fingers while he gesticulated from side to side. 

“Are you not allowed pencils or something?” Roman inquired incredulously, pulling back his head.

“Yup, if we’re not in class or doing homework we can’t have them because someone in my unit nearly got stabbed in the eye and there was another guy who transferred who kept using them to draw boobs on stuff. I draw during study hall but that’s _it_.” Remus replied with a sour expression on his face.

“Dude,” Roman scrunched up his face. That sounded as boring as limbo’s waiting room.

“I made a board game, but it got taken away because of a barking space. It pissed off the guard and they won’t let me bring a new one back from study hall,” Remus groaned bitterly, tossing another chip in his mouth.

“Fucking bullshit,” Roman hissed angrily. “That’s not fair. What do you do, then?” He genuinely had no idea what Remus would do.

“Re-read books, daydream, do chores. They have group activities and board games. Sometimes we try to sneak around the guards just for fun. Covert activities are half the entertainment here. I made a knife out of a piece of uncooked lasagna once. I got the rack for it, but I just had to see if I _could_ ,” Remus grinned wildly and Roman nodded his head and raised his eyebrows in awe of the sheer determination that must have taken. “Oh, and we have constant pissing contests, it’s exhausting. Like yeah, you got stabbed and barely screamed or whatever. I’m bored, let’s make a new game out of the pieces of the incomplete ones,” He huffed and made an annoyed gesture. “We play _Calvinball_ in the yard sometimes, that’s fun. We have a _Calvin & Hobbes_ anthology so everyone knows about it,” Remus sounded stoked about that.

“How does that not descend into madness within twenty minutes?” Roman furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, someone always gets decked, but the guards don’t pay that much attention to us during yard time,” Remus shrugged, but he had a little evil grin.

“Speaking of, did anyone get vengeance on ‘dickpunch mcgee’?” Roman chuckled through his nose and the nickname.

“Nope! A few fuckers have tried, but I’m too quick. It’s turned into a much more racist nickname that if I hear one more time, I’m giving the offending party a purple nurple,” Remus grumbled bitterly. Ah. Roman could probably guess at it. He’d been called that one a few times. He groaned in agreement.

“Fucking fair. But a purple nurple? I learned this great one where…” Roman paused and glanced out of the corner of his eye to Thomas and Patton. They both looked anxious and confused, which wasn’t ideal. “Run. I’d run,” Roman chuckled nervously. “Eri ta and then you heilod uje vae,” Roman informed wickedly and Remus broke out with laughter, hitting his hand on the table without making a noise.

“I am taking notes on your pacifist and escapist policy,” Remus snickered with an evil grin. “Talking to authority figures _certainly_ solves problems,” He spoke facetiously, and they both broke out into laughter. “Who did you learn that _wonderful_ ‘philosophy’ from?” He demanded after the sarcastic laughter broke.

“That kistka story, remember? Shouldn’t get into specifics. Maybe another time. As the person _involved_ in said philosophy, I can say it’s very effective,” Roman responded glibly, wincing at the memories.

“Oof,” Remus groaned, shaking head. “Rip,” He did the sign of the cross, which made Roman snicker quietly. Abuela was always doing it when they got into shit as kids, and Remus was probably referencing that.

“I’m sorry, what’s happening?” Thomas looked at Roman with apprehension, gripping the table with a mildly freaked out expression.

“Calm your tits, it’s all good,” Remus waved Thomas’s worry away. “How’s sunshine time with the gaynamic duo?” Remus pointed with his thumb.

“Fine, it’s whatever. Too good for me. School sucks, who cares. Been playing video games and talking about books with Virgil. There’re piles of ‘em there. Are books approved? We could bring you some new ones,” Roman talked rapidly, excited at the prospect of getting something for Remus.

“Yes! I assume you can safely bring three? There’s a guy in my unit that got that from his parents last week. We’re missing the second to last _Harry Potter_ and it’s driving everyone insane, so that one for sure. They don’t allow most rebelling content, but they make exceptions for popular titles. Though we’re not allowed _The Hunger Games_ , and that’s telling,” Remus grunted sharply and leaned on his arm against the table.

“I have the sixth _Harry Potter_ , I can give it to you!” Roman was so happy he could have glowed. “I’m missing the third book, so I get it. It’s kinda beat up but I bet all the novels are,” He added blithely.

“All the unit books here are more used than the magazines at a sperm bank,” Remus barked a laugh and Roman groaned in disgust.

“Colourful,” Roman shook his head.

“You put twenty delinquent teenagers in one room and the weird shit is gonna come out no matter what. If you sneaked in a deck of dirty playing cards, I could probably trade an assassination for it,” Remus shrugged with a mild expression. “The only reason we all read is there’s nothing better to do. I have real shit reading comprehension, though. They’re always saying ‘slow down and you’ll absorb more’. _Bitch_ , if I knew how to do that, you think I’d have this problem? My brain has one setting, and it’s _Sonic the Hedgehog_ on steroids,” Remus’s fingers nyoomed across the tabletop.

“Would buff Sonic be faster? Thick muscles aren’t good for speed,” Roman scrunched his face in confusion.

“Sonic on steroids and one crack cocaine,” Remus snickered, holding up a finger.

“Debit or credit?” Roman mimed working at a fast-food switchboard.

“Actually, I have a gift card,” Remus held up a non-existent card and they both snickered. “Man, I just ate that bag of chips, but I’m still hungry,” He bemoaned, holding his stomach and patting the empty chip bag on the table.

“You have chocolate,” Roman suggested temptingly.

“I do!” Remus beamed and dug into the bag, unwrapping a chocolate piece and popping it in his mouth right away. “Thank you!” Remus sang to the table. They continued to be confused, but Patton looked pleased.

“Are there any other books you want? We have plenty,” Thomas leaned forward on crossed arms, looking interested.

“Yeah, the new Tongue Twisted. Well, it’s not new anymore. But we have the other three and I really want to learn how it ends,” Remus pointed at Thomas with a piece of chocolate before eating another piece. Thomas just laughed out loud in response.

“What?” Roman and Remus asked synchronously, making the same confused expression. Patton was about to say something, but Thomas shook his head and waved his hand side to side.

“It’s nothing. We have all of those. I can also get you Joystick Joyride if you like,” Thomas grinned.

“Nah, that’s got the gays. Banned book. _Aurora Rising_ , please, it looks badass as fuck. I saw the cover in another unit and I _crave_ it,” Remus had a wild gleam in his eyes as he looked at Thomas.

“Tongue Twisted _also_ has the gays,” Thomas rolled his eyes, mildly frustrated.

“Sure, but they’re not on the cover or mentioned in the blurb,” Remus shrugged.

“Sure, I’ll get you _Aurora Rising_. No _scary gays_ in the blurb,” Thomas laughed acoustically.

“Rules is rules, man, what can I say?” Remus sighed and flipped his hair by twitching his head while he bore a sour expression.

“Well. you’ll be an in-demand guy with multiple books the unit wants. More chocolate for you,” Roman motioned towards the bag with the candy, feeling pleased he could be of help.

“Oh, my god. That’s so true. People will bend over backward to borrow that _Harry Potter_ book for sure,” Remus nodded and ate another piece of chocolate happily. “I had such a pleasant week other than the sneak attacks. Once people found out I had chocolate everyone was immediately nicer. It was like being a mob boss or something,” Remus looked utterly delighted, holding a piece of chocolate between his pointer fingers.

“Oh, that’s good,” Roman sighed in relief. It was bad enough Remus was in here.

“It’s remarkably strange to see Roman, but stronger,” Thomas mused as he gazed between the twins, then motioned with his hand to Remus.

“Hey,” Roman narrowed his eyes at Thomas sourly at the implication he was weak.

“It’s much weirder to see myself, but half-starved!” Remus motioned to Roman with pursed lips.

“ _Hey_ -” Roman started to object, but paused in consideration. “That’s fair,” He shrugged. He always thought he ate enough, but it was glaringly apparent he didn’t have adequate food next to Remus.

“You need to feed him more if I’ve got like at least twenty pounds on him on the shit amount the state feeds me,” Remus stated emphatically, motioning with both hands to Roman.

“We’re _trying_ , trust me,” Thomas huffed his bangs out of his face.

“Be nice,” Patton frowned at Thomas, frowning and shaking his head.

“That wasn’t mean, I’m bad at food sometimes,” Roman admitted apologetically. “There’s a weight bench in the garage to catch up with you when I can actually use it,” He suggested. He knew Remus enjoyed being identical as kids. Twin shenanigans were the best kind.

“Why can’t you use it?” Remus furrowed his eyebrows. Roman chewed on his inner lip for a moment, not wanting to talk about this here. The guards nearby were bad enough.

“Cracked rib. Not allowed strenuous exercise right now,” Roman tried to say nonchalantly to not upset him, but Remus was already about to throw down.

“Den mer stallia fen tor?” Remus glared at Patton and Thomas. “I’ll fucking do it,” Remus gripped the table with one hand and his knee with the other.

“No!” Roman shot, holding up his hands. “No, that wasn’t the cause,” He swayed his head. He appreciated that Remus was willing to go that hard for him after all this time, though, even if he was exaggerating.

“Oh, shit! I hugged you so _hard_! I didn’t hurt your rib, did I?” Remus looked worried.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Roman rolled his eyes. It did sting like a motherfucker, but he’d take it any day over not hugging Remus.

“We’ve learned ‘it’s fine’ means that it’s _not_ , but you don’t want to talk about it,” Thomas looked pointedly at Roman with a slight frown. Roman shrunk back.

“Oh, called the fuck out!” Remus whooped. “Just tell me you fucking idiot, I don’t want to hurt you,” He glowered at Roman.

“Fine. Same. I didn’t want to upset you, sorry,” Roman raised his hands in defeat.

“Fuck, the x-ray must’ve looked wild. Did you break anything else? I got my arm broken so we’ll match again,” Remus rubbed his chin considerately and flexed the other arm.

“Broke my leg. I had to keep running on it, too. It was fucking horrible,” Roman groaned. “And we’ll only match if you let me shove you out of a tree,” Roman laughed evilly.

“Reasonable. What, did you fuck up at parkour?” Remus looked interested and leaned towards Roman.

“Something like that,” Roman replied dismissively. “It was expensive as hell and they wouldn’t even let me pick the colour! I took sharpies to it and made it a work of art. It was a shame to throw away. The smell of the cast, though, ugh,” Roman crossed his arms over his ribs to warm it a bit and help the pain.

“The stink is powerful. I get it, I lost lots of my art at that last house. They used to tear it up to punish me. There was the one I did of a hero fighting a monster I was proud of they fucking destroyed. I’m still fucking pissed,” Remus made a sour face and pouted.

“Shit, that sucks so bad,” Roman winced sympathetically.

“I started drawing in my books to hide it. My copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ has a bonus adventure in the margins,” Remus smiled slightly but looked kind of angry.

“I mean, oof, but that’s marvelous. I’d love it if more books had things in the margins. I realize it’s about printer errors blah-blah, but like, how cool would it be?” Roman enthused, motioning with his hands. “Like an illustration of an event or character?” Roman went on.

“Oh, that would be awesome! It’s dumb it’s considered ‘childish’. Seeing those is fun and helps the reader! Especially when you imagine a character and get mental whiplash later when you find out you were wrong,” Remus gesticulated happily as he spoke. Roman hummed in agreement.

“That’s so embarrassing. It’s not like anybody knows I assumed wrong, but I feel like such a dumbshit when I do that,” Roman groaned. “But sometimes I like what I pictured better. I thought Katniss was mixed Latino like us. I swear it said she had olive skin and grey eyes, but all the stuff has her completely white-looking,” He pulled his lips in and shifted down his eyebrows in frustration.

“I figure that was just white-washing. I’ve never read it, but I think I remember someone complaining about it before. There’s a lot of Latino kids here, cuz, y’know, racism,” Remus shrugged offhandedly with a small nod. Roman sighed, nodding along with him.

“The movies had totally different messages from the book, so I’m not surprised. But vindication nonetheless!” Roman cheered. “I don’t have a copy of the novel to double-check. Oh, I can look online now! Duh!” Roman smacked himself in the head and laughed.

“Roman,” Thomas protested firmly.

“Sorry. I didn’t hit _hard_ ,” Roman responded sheepishly, leaning back. Remus gripped the table again and glowered at Thomas.

“It’s a dangerous habit for someone with your tendencies,” Thomas chided him. That was maybe fair. Roman sagged his shoulders.

“Oh, lighten up. We’re built sturdy. Roman fell off a roof and only twisted his ankle,” Remus informed them, hitting his chest with his hand. He appeared to be upset under the confident facade, though.

“We _both_ fell off the roof, it wasn’t just me,” Roman crossed his arms.

“Why in the world were you on a _roof_?” Patton asked incredulously, with his patented concerned expression.

“We were bored,” Roman and Remus replied together, both mirroring each other’s noncommittal shrug.

“The _plan_ wasn't to fall off, we just got carried away play-fighting for the fate of humanity,” Roman provided, waving a nonexistent two-handed sword.

“Roman fell off to lose the battle, and I threw myself off as the villain who regretted their actions. It was very dramatic. Roman even yelled out ‘no’ dramatically for the sheer pathos of it all,” Remus smiled proudly, crossing his arms and radiating pleased energy.

“Wait, it was part of the _story_?” Patton asked, and the disbelief never left his tone.

“Characters don’t always do what you want them to,” Roman tossed his hands dismissively.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Thomas chuckled with a bemused expression. “Just a sprained ankle, though?” He didn’t sound like he bought that.

“We both fell into abuela’s bushes and tumbled out. She had a hedge in the backyard. We may have jumped off the roof again afterward. It was fun,” Remus had a wistful smile.

“She was pretty pissed we ruined her shrubbery, though,” Roman laughed darkly, bobbing his finger in the air.

“Not about the sprained ankle?” Patton furrowed his eyebrows.

“We already had battle damage when we got there, she wouldn’t have known the difference. Remus had a sprained wrist. It’s why I let him win,” Roman motioned to Remus with his head.

“I punched dad right in the fucking eye,” Remus announced smugly, nodding with pride. “But that victory on the roof was hard-fought, thank you very much!” Remus added intensely and Roman nodded in agreement.

“I got the other eye two weeks later,” Roman cringed, not fond of that memory. He shuddered at the reminder of Remus’s blood on the carpet. “Ugh,” He groaned.

“That wasn’t the best month. We’re lucky we didn’t end up hemophobic!” Remus seemed amused by the idea.

“We had every right to be, that’s for sure. Blood doesn’t bother me, I just don’t appreciate seeing _yours_ ,” Roman said pointedly.

“Same,” Remus huffed and ruffled his hair. Roman hadn’t had a cut in a while, but Remus’s had a few inches on Roman’s hair.

“Didn’t we do some blood-bond thing as kids?” Roman tilted his head, trying to remember.

“Hah! I forgot about that!” Remus smirked and kicked his feet slowly, swaying in his seat.

“I think there was some old movie where the twins had to do a blood-bond to unlock their magic powers or something,” Roman tapped his chin. They’d gotten the idea from _somewhere_.

“ _Escape to Witch Mountain_?” Remus checked with Roman.

“No, that was the purple power one. They just had to touch,” Roman waved his hand, continuing to think.

“Oh! That’s the one where all twins are aliens!” Remus remembered the movie, looking excited and bouncing his leg.

“We pretended to be aliens for like a month after that. Mom was so sick of it!” Roman laughed at the memory.

“We’re still aliens. We just lost our purple powers,” Remus nodded sagely.

“Telekinesis would be such a cool power, though. You could do your homework while playing video games or something. I’d pick back up sewing again if I had telekinesis. I always got so bored,” Roman sighed heavily.

“Yuck, I _hate_ needles,” Remus shivered, shaking his head and causing his hair to flop around while he grimaced. “Had a sick fuck for like a week. I can’t stomach them anymore. I’d rather have like… summoning. Have anything, anytime you want. Instant gratification,” Remus offered instead, and Roman tilted his head and nodded in agreement.

“I think that’s called ‘constructs creation’. Or was that ‘mental manifestation’? Either way, it’s kind of OP, isn’t it?” Roman rubbed his chin. He had fallen down the superpower wiki hole earlier this week.

“Oh, fuck being _balanced_ , it’s an idle fantasy,” Remus rolled his eyes and tossed his hands.

“Fine, but what not-OP superpower would you want? I’m curious,” Roman asked, looking at Remus with a vested interest.

“Maybe teleportation, so I can just be wherever, whenever. How about you?” Remus didn’t sound positive about his choices, but maybe he hadn’t read enough to have the range. Teleporting out of here being his top priority made sense, though.

“Oh, friction manipulation or flight. It would be so cool to fly! I’d pick powers like in _Prototype_ or _Infamous_ for more OP ones. Probably _Infamous_ since the powers have the option of being less, well, _evil_ ,” Roman talked airily, twisting his hand around while he thought.

“I’ve never played those!” Remus looked excited about the powers.

“Oh, _Prototype_ has you as like a genetic mod person and you get a variety of shape-shifter type powers. In _Infamous_ you get a wide variety of electric powers and you can do lots with them,” Roman explained animatedly.

“Roman, _Prototype_ is rated M,” Thomas arched his eyebrow at him. Roman stiffened.

“I didn’t say I _played_ it!” Roman shot defensively.

“Okay, but you more about it than someone who _shouldn’t_ know,” Thomas looked kind of bemused and leaned forward to examine Roman’s reaction.

“I’ve played much wor-” Roman started rolling his eyes but his eyes widened and he slammed his hand over his mouth when he realized what came out.

“Oh,” Remus drawled slowly, recoiling back and grimacing. “ _Wasted_ ,” He used a deep announcer voice.

“Whatever, there wasn’t any sex in it, it’s rated M for violence,” Roman scoffed. “I mostly watched it, anyway. Other than mom and the Millers, most adults didn’t bother with what I played or watched,” He held himself protectively while Patton looked disappointed.

“At least the Millers had _some_ sense,” Patton replied sullenly, sighing. Roman flinched back, feeling completely blindsided and disgusted by Patton’s sentiment.

“I’m… going to hope you didn’t _mean_ that,” Roman responded warily, staring at Patton with worry. “Otherwise I’m taking Re’s offer to have him beat the shit out of you,” Roman pointed to Remus and spoke plainly. Remus looked proud of himself.

“What?” Patton shot, looking to Remus.

“I thought you broke his rib,” Remus responded plainly, almost bored. “Vengeance is sort of part of the twin package,” He added, shooting them both a warning look while he wiggled his fingertips at them.

“Did they have that awful food rule?” Thomas asked warily, leaning away from Roman as if expecting a blow.

“Among _other_ things,” Roman scoffed and shook his head, not interested in talking about that fucking nightmare. “Let’s just say ‘ _it’s fine_ ’,” He intoned much more acridly than intended.

“I take it back,” Patton held up his hands to concede. “Sorry, kiddo. I’m still not happy you played an M rated game when you were so young,” He frowned.

“Why pick something so _stupid_ to be unhappy with me about? You know I’ve done things _objectively_ worse,” Roman threw his arms defensively and glared at him.

“What’d you do? What’d you _do_?” Remus asked with a morbid curiosity, leaning forward and staring with a wide grin.

“Stallia,” Roman mumbled and Remus leaned back quickly, going pale.

“Holy shit balls, you mean for _real_? Dude, you’re yanking my chain, right?” Remus’s voice had a quiet desperation to it.

“No. And no, I’m not explaining what that means, so don’t fucking bother,” Roman shook his finger at Thomas and Patton, seeing their confusion and worry and not wanting to deal with it.

“Will you talk to a therapist about it?” Patton asked meekly. “Because, well, that was a horrifying reaction,” He added, motioned to Remus, who continued to be shell shocked.

“Yeah, _sure_ , why not. Let’s see how many mental breakdowns I can have in one day. Maybe I can set a _Guinness_ world record,” Roman drawled derisively while he rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned back, flipping out his hand.

“Dude, I’d talk to someone about that,” Remus eyed Roman warily.

“Last time I let myself think about it… well. Mer… uh, felmar. So I don’t prefer to,” Roman said dismissively, hoping he used the right word.

“No shit, you don’t like _thinking_ about it,” Remus groaned. “I didn’t, uh… y’know?” Remus flicked his eyes down and back up again. “Last time, I mean,” He added, sounding unsure.

“Well, that’s by _design_. I’m trying not to do it again,” Roman grunted, crossing his arms.

“You better not,” Remus hissed and Roman raised his hands defensively. Roman didn’t like that he did it in the first place and agreed with Remus.

“I don’t suppose… _you_ would tell us?” Patton requested with a rising inflection, shooting a distressed glance over to Remus.

“What’dya take me for, a _snitch_? Nah, sister, bros before hoes, but also I don’t wish to end up in holes,” Remus mimed getting hanged.

“Thank you,” Roman nodded, but Thomas and Patton looked frustrated.

“Doesn’t mean I think you _repressing_ it is any better, fucker,” Remus said pointedly, looking miffed at Roman.

“Betrayed by my own _flesh_ and _blood_!” Roman moaned dramatically and held his arm up to his face. “I shan’t recover from such a scathing remark. Jeeves! The fainting couch, please, before I chance mire my fineries!” Roman smirked from behind his arm and Roman and Remus broke down cackling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 28 Warnings:  
> JDC, Guards, Abuse of Power, Food, Minor Bickering, Pain, Death Mention, Deplorable Conditions for Children, Violence References, Derogatory Language, Weight Discussion, Forced Boredom, Taking Away Hobbies as Punishment Mention, Destroying Creations as a Punishment Mention, Group Punishment Mention, Knife Mention, Stabbing Mention, Fighting Mention, Racism Mention, Injury Mentions, Violence Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Inappropriate Jokes, Drug Mention, Drug Jokes, Tumblr Jokes, Homophobia Reference, Threats, Broken Bones Mentions, Blood Mention, Mention of Needles, Extremely Concerned Parents™
> 
> A multitude of thanks to **[Jamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/pseuds/midge1) and [Anxielin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxielin/profile)** for Beta'ing!
> 
> Roman and Remus with ADHD Vibing Dialogue gives me life


	29. 53% of all vandalism is committed by teen boys. is yours one of them?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Virgil do things that are completely legal but more importantly very normal for teen boys to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in endnotes

Holding the small flashlight in his mouth was uncomfortable at best. The hard plastic made his teeth hurt. He was thankful it was waterproof, but the location of the key chain was awkward and hung out of his lips oddly. But it was better than trying to sketch in the dark. Roman doodled in the holographic notebook, just sort of trying to put the things in his brain somewhere. He couldn’t sleep, and laying in bed under the blanket with a light in his teeth was better than lying there and letting his brain run free to his regular late hour awful shit.

He’d drawn Remus as a minotaur, Virgil as some kind of slender-type demon, and a sketch of his mom already on this page. He just sketched the gun he used to carry now. He couldn’t get the image out of his head since Patton brought it up last week. He’d already drawn his old .380 with the weird gash on the side and the serial number scratched off. He had a few bullets for it in his things, but Jet was hiding it while Roman’s leg was broken, so he had no idea where the gun itself ended up. His brain could never figure out if that was the best thing that happened in that mess or not.

There was a sound in the hall and Roman jumped and instantly turned off the flashlight with his teeth on the button and dropped his head flat to the bed under the blanket. He laid motionless, keeping his breathing even in case someone came to check on him. Thomas only had once, when he made a loud noise, but he was wired to do it after so long. He was terrified of getting caught staying up, even though he knew the worst they would have him go to bed early and make disappointed noises at him. Those theoretical disappointed sounds were menacing despite the lack of danger.

After a few moments where nothing happened and the muffled sound of something metallic clinging together on the stairs piqued Roman’s interest. People rarely went down the stairs in the heart of the night here. It was pitch black in the hall still, so it wasn’t Thomas or Patton taking the stairs to get water in the kitchen. That meant it was Virgil, and that was interesting and new. 

Roman slipped silently out of bed and cracked open his door, watching Virgil descend the stairs with a backpack gently, likely trying not to make another noise from whatever was shifting in his bag. Roman grabbed his keys, a dark shirt he threw on over the one he was wearing, and slid on his shoes hurriedly, wanting to know where Virgil was headed in the middle of the night.

Roman followed him down the hall and out the door without Virgil noticing until Virgil turned to close the door and jumped when he saw Roman. Roman grinned and shut the door behind him, working the latch deliberately so it wouldn’t click. He reached into his pocket to pull out his keys, and Virgil’s hands shot up and motioned rapidly to not do that.

“Why would we leave the door unlocked?” Roman whispered, unsure Virgil could even see it if he signed.

Virgil backed up into the dim light of the street and signed ‘dog hearing,’ with an angry face. Oh, she hears the lock. That explained why Lita threw a bark-fit and woke up the entire house when Roman ran. He thought it was odd Lita started barking when he left last time since she normally sleeps in Thomas and Patton’s room.

‘So what are we doing?’ Roman came out into the dim light to sign to Virgil.

‘I-’ Virgil put extra emphasis on signing me, ‘have something to do,’ Virgil glowered at Roman.

‘I’ll be your lookout,’ Roman signed back with a smirk, positive Virgil couldn’t even see his expression. Virgil sighed and nodded, heading out into the road. If he threw a fit would have gotten them caught, so conceding was a smart move. Roman was happy to use that to his advantage for once. Roman followed along, very curious about where he was going. Virgil went off into the opposite direction of the school, so Roman had no inkling where he was intending to go.

Virgil tried to cut too close to a fence and Roman jumped in front of him in a panic, making a big X with his arms. ‘Dogs,’ He signed hastily and Virgil gave a quick nod, backing off from the area. After that, if Roman steered away from something Virgil followed with no prompting. He seemed to understand that Roman knew what he was doing. They dodged fences, streetlights, eye lines from windows, and avoided getting too close to cars. No one else was out to avoid right now, but walking confidently was the best way to avoid second glances and Virgil already walked as if he had somewhere to be.

Roman hadn’t brought his phone to check the time, nor would he because of screen brightness, but they had been walking at a fast pace for at least ten minutes. They finally made it to a skate park, which must have been Virgil’s destination, since he pivoted towards it. Roman made a confused expression as Virgil skirted the outside, avoiding the lights and slipping down into a skate bowl. You couldn’t see it from the pavement and it was largely unlit, so it seemed like a good place to be. Roman slid down into the pit with Virgil, who was unzipping his backpack.

Virgil slipped on a gas mask and Roman blinked a few times in confusion until Virgil withdrew a spray paint can. Ah. He did not understand how Virgil got a hold of spray paint, but he was incredibly down with this. Roman took off both of his shirts and put the dark one back on, then flipped and tucked the one he had under it into a face mask promptly. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and motioned to his backpack and then the pit. 

It was dark in here, but he was pretty certain Virgil said ‘go for it’. Roman dug through the backpack and picked out a few colours. It was difficult to tell what he pulled out while his eyes adjusted, but Virgil had a decent collection. He ran across a pair of disposable gloves in the backpack and happily adorned them. Spray paint on his hands was damning evidence.

He chose to do the dragon with the green flames that kept ending up in his daydreams. Virgil had the entire rainbow and beyond in here, it could be achieved. Before he started on that, though, he grabbed the blue and made a big dot and drew a gold trident inside of it. He used to paint it everywhere when Jet brought him spray paints to mark alleyways for his incomprehensible code system.

Roman put down a base of green and blue for the flames first. He wasn’t sure what Virgil sprayed, but he hadn’t seen him leave the basin yet, so he figured he was good. Roman made a rainbow of colours as a base for the dragon to spray black paint over to try to make the iridescent effect on the dragon’s scales, but he couldn’t be sure how it looked in the dark. Without the right tools, Roman couldn’t pull off fine details, so he just focused on making the overarching concept rather than fretting over the things he couldn’t pull off.

He was adding smoke to the village when he heard the cans clink in the sack. He hurriedly added his tag, a swirling sun, and rushed over to return the paint to the sack. Virgil left the pack on the ground after zipping it up and got a running start to climb out of the skate bowl. Roman handed up the pack and stepped back to try to run, but Virgil shook his head and held out his gloved hand. Roman blinked in surprise but accepted the help out of the bowl. A hard landing or a slip would have been bad with his… battle damage, so he appreciated the gesture and signed thanks before Virgil turned off to his next location.

Virgil moved to the backside of the half-pipe next and plucked out a can. It was bright enough here to see what he was up to, and Virgil was writing a particularly… _glowing_ … review of his ex-teacher. Roman snickered and pulled out a can to do a quick caricature of him vomiting shit, which Virgil seemed very amused by, since he doubled over laughing silently as Roman used brown and green spray paint to make the teacher spew chunks.

They put all the cans back in the backpack and Virgil took off his mask and gloves, so Roman followed suit. He took the shirt off his face and held it while they walked off into the night again. They didn’t head back the way they came, but farther down the lane towards a corner store gas station. There were no cars there this time of night, and Virgil walked in confidently. Roman didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, so he hung out in the shadows near the ice cooler for Virgil to come back out.

Virgil returned with two bags of candy and tossed one towards Roman. He fumbled catching it at first, completely not expecting this outcome. Not that he expected to head out in the midst of the night and commit crimes with Virgil, but life was weird like that. Virgil opened up his package right away and started eating. He had gotten himself gummy sharks and tossed a pack of _Skittles_ at Roman. It had been a while since he’d eaten them, and Roman was completely delighted to get a pack. He opened up the package as he followed Virgil away from the station. Roman only had a few pieces so he could save the rest for later.

This must have been the return journey since Roman recognized the way back. He still had to steer Virgil a bit and was curious if this was his first time walking the roads at night or if Roman was just hyper-aware of the rules out here. He assumed it was the latter with the easy confidence Virgil strode through the streets at night. Virgil was much less self-assured in the daytime. Maybe Virgil was just happy about getting out some anger. Roman could relate. As far as all the crimes Roman had committed went, graffiti was so harmless he could barely consider it one. He was aware the other things he had done perhaps skewed his concept of what crimes were _actually_ bad, but he didn’t prefer to think about that.

Virgil and Roman discarded their gloves in the outside dumpster before going inside silently. Virgil pivoted right upstairs, but Roman headed into the pitch-black kitchen to wash the sweat from his hands and grab a drink of cold water. Roman was skilled at moving silently and headed back upstairs to his room with barely a creak. 

He tossed both shirts into the laundry basket and grabbed a new one to wear in bed, thankful for all the new clothes for once. Roman deposited his _Skittles_ bag upright in the desk organizer before kicking off his shoes, putting away his keys, and lying back down in bed.

There was a message on his phone from Virgil saying that he had fun and would go to the skate park tomorrow to get photos of what they did in the daylight. Roman was secretly excited about that, shaking his fist soundlessly in the air. He looked forward to seeing how the dragon turned out in the daylight. He also had no idea what Virgil painted in the bowl. It was already full of tags and designs and he was extremely focused on the dragon, so Virgil pointing out what was his with a photo would be helpful.

It had been a long time since Roman had broken laws of any sort, and ending the streak with Virgil was fun. There was no bonding experience quite like committing crimes together, but he did also have fun and get to do something he used to enjoy doing without it having to be a whole fucking deal. He wished more things in his life didn’t have to be a massive event. Roman rolled over into his journal on accident and picked it up to put it back on the nightstand. He already felt creatively fulfilled and in a decent mood, so he had hoped he could just lay there and get some sleep instead of just wasting time until he passed out again.

“Roman?” Thomas asked quietly and Roman recoiled, looking at Thomas as he rubbed his eyes while he stood in the doorway.

“Uh, yeah?” Roman replied nervously, having absolutely no idea how much Thomas saw or if he had caught Roman sneaking out and further vandalizing a skate park.

“Sorry. I heard a noise and Lita was up, so I got worried,” Thomas sighed, leaning against the door frame. “Trouble sleeping again?” He asked after a long yawn.

“Always,” Roman shrugged.

“Did… you change shirts?” Thomas asked incredulously after a moment of confused blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“I got sweaty,” Roman lied dismissively. It didn’t seem like Thomas knew.

“Huh,” Thomas yawned again. “Well, good luck getting some sleep. I’ll talk Pat into letting you have another hour this morning,” Thomas waved and turned to leave.

“Um, thanks,” Roman replied sheepishly. He felt bad for lying to Thomas and worse, he was being rewarded for it in a weird way. Thomas closed Roman’s door behind him and Roman sighed as he sunk back into the bed.

He _was_ in a good mood and then he remembered his foster parents were clearly not pro-crimes and he had just lied to possibly one of the nicest people he ever met. He had fun with Virgil, and he couldn’t feel bad about that. He also wouldn’t out Virgil as much as he craved to come clean. Being conflicted was the vibe lately, it seemed. Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, and Roman was trying to fucking sleep. He needed to focus on something else before his overtired brain made things worse.

Thomas’s two yawns must have been contagious since Roman yawned and settled back into bed. He was curious where Virgil hid the backpack full of tagging supplies. Did Thomas and Patton not search the rooms? That bag was too big to hide from a thorough search, they would have found it easily. They hadn’t searched Roman’s room yet, so maybe they didn’t. There wasn’t much to find, since Roman didn’t have much.

Most of his less-than-savoury things were already hidden, and not somewhere obvious like a sock drawer or under the mattress. Roman’s fall-back was usually an old pair of shoes, but he had a fake book with his things. He had turned an old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ into a secret box, but he also had a bin of art supplies in the closet with the bullets hidden in it. The battery compartment from one of his old toys on top of the dresser was another nice spot. Parents never checked books or toys, though they would take them away. Roman had to be careful of that, but he picked _Pride and Prejudice_ because the book was so ‘school reading’ that no one ever bothered taking it from him. He picked that book because no one would bother touching it and it was the right size.

Other than the bullets and the contents of the fake book, he didn’t have much to withhold, however. The list of old phone numbers of drug connections wasn’t particularly suspicious. His sketchbooks were possibly worth hiding, considering some of the things he drew, but people didn’t go out of their way to check them so far. He was protective of people flipping through them, but it just didn’t normally happen. He wouldn’t mind a locking box to put them in, though. He generally just mixed them in with his books to keep them out of sight. He’d had foster siblings get bored and flip through them before if he left them out. He was shit at remembering to protect things sometimes.

Roman considered getting up to look for something to shelter them now, but he was finally tired. His body was feeling kind of heavy and he didn’t want to move. Nobody had mentioned going through any of his journals or anything and there was no way Patton or Thomas wouldn’t be like ‘blah-blah-concerning-imagery’ with the stuff in there, so they weren’t messing with them _tonight_ if they even intended to do so. They let him close the door and everything, so they might have understood the concept of privacy better than other houses he’d stayed at. When Roman realized that he involuntarily sighed in relief. It felt like a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He shifted to make himself more comfortable and closed his eyes on the pillow. With any luck, he’d be asleep soon.

— ✪ —

“Boys, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Thomas asked with his palms on his hips. Roman and Virgil shot each other a look as they laid upside down on the couch with their feet in the air while they played video games. Roman’s hair was shaggy and everywhere, but Virgil’s bangs contended with the poof-levels occurring as gravity pulled at their hair. Oh, fuck, Virgil nearly got Roman while Thomas and gravity distracted him.

“Double handicap,” Roman offered in explanation and tried to combo Virgil’s character, but he had blocked. Roman made a face at the screen.

“It’s not safe to let all the blood run to your head for a long time,” Thomas shook his head and stared them down.

“Fine, after this match we’ll get up,” Roman supplied, rolling his eyes.

“I’m holding you to that,” Thomas held up two fingers and motioned between his eyes and them, heading into the kitchen. Virgil snickered with a quiet hiss and had tossed Roman’s character into a breakable part of the stage. Roman didn’t expect Virgil to be so kick ass at fighting games, but he enjoyed the challenge even if it frustrated him. Roman couldn’t stand button-mashers, but otherwise tolerated fighting game-related anger easily.

Virgil had won, out of sheer luck, and slithered off the couch to lie down flat on the floor. He looked up at the TV instead by shoving his hoodie up under his neck to angle his head towards the TV. That way they were still upside down, but this way won’t incite Thomas to make annoyed dad noises. Roman scooted down as well, taking the throw pillow and shoving it under his shoulders so he could see the flat screen. Roman refused to bunch up his awesome jacket to copy Virgil, and the pillow did the trick.

“Boys, what… um, where did you go?” Thomas called, coming back out from the kitchen.

“Floor,” Roman replied promptly and chewed on his tongue, trying to dodge. He twitched his hands around while he played, sometimes jerking to the side when he jumped around on the screen.

“Should I even ask?” Thomas sighed, standing behind the couch with his hands on the back, looking down at the floor.

“We’re being safer, it’s whatever. What did you want?” Roman grunted when Virgil combo’d him and moved to retaliate right away, landing a combo right back at him.

“Um, thank you for listening, I suppose. What do you want for dinner?” Thomas nodded and looked a little confused, but pleased nonetheless. Virgil and Roman leaped to opposite sides of the stage in-game and paused it so they could talk.

‘Chalupas,’ Virgil fingerspelled.

“I kind of doubt Thomas knows how to prepare those, dude,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows at Virgil who just shrugged. He didn’t seem bothered by that.

‘With pulled pork,’ Virgil added. That did sound tasty, actually. Now he wanted them, too.

“Virgil specifically wants pulled pork chalupas. Do you know how to cook them?” Roman looked at Thomas curiously, hoping he did.

“I can’t say that I do. I can make the pulled pork?” Thomas offered tentatively, looking to Roman and Virgil.

“If we have corn tortillas and salsa verde I can make the actual chalupa part?” Roman suggested. He hadn’t made them in a long time, but he remembered how to do it. “But it does get a tiny bit smoky,” Roman added sheepishly.

“I don’t suppose Virgil wants anything that _isn’t_ fried?” Thomas looked to Virgil, who just shook his head. “Well, you don’t ordinarily want something so specific. I think we have the stuff. It’ll be about 45-ish minutes before you’d need to start cooking, so have fun murdering each other. Thanks for helping, Roman,” Thomas grinned and Virgil smirked over to Roman.

‘Smug bastard,’ Roman glowered and signed to Virgil.

“Yeah, I’m going to assume you said something nice for my own peace of mind,” Thomas chuckled and turned around to head to the kitchen.

‘Thanks for chalupas,’ Virgil signed before picking back up the controller and dropping his head again. Roman was happy to feel like he was doing something useful for once. But he still got to play video games. It was a nice compromise between being a worthless lump and actually contributing to the household.

Roman dropped his head back down and counted down before unpausing. Virgil came in hard, but Roman blocked and got in a toss and a combo before Virgil could retaliate. Virgil was especially unpredictable and capable. He fought like a wild badger and rarely had openings. Roman had to step up his game. He was used to cussing out Jet or something during fighting games, but Roman didn’t think he was even blinking while they fought, he had to be so focused. That saved him from getting in trouble, at least. 

He glared at the screen as Virgil nearly got the drop on him again. He had just barely won the match by a hair. They had a tie-breaker, now. It was always tie-breakers with Virgil. Roman either always fought chumps in the past or Virgil holed up playing fighting games in his room on the daily.

A few rounds further and they switched to playing on random characters at Virgil’s suggestion. He wasn’t letting Virgil have the satisfaction of beating Roman at his favourite fighters, and it was another obstacle they could impose. Virgil faux-yawned like the smug son of a bitch he was after he won the next round. Roman narrowed his eyes at Virgil, planning his downfall. He wondered if he could sneak down and play after Thomas and Patton went to bed before the next stage loaded, but he wouldn’t take the risk. He was winning the next round, damnit. Something touched Roman’s shoulder, so he flinched and accidentally jettisoned the controller at Virgil, looking around wildly to see Patton holding up his hands and looking guilty squatted down next to him.

“Sorry, Kiddo! You didn’t seem to hear me!” Patton apologized quickly. Roman exhaled hard, trying to calm down. Yeah, that happened sometimes. Roman gripped his chest and held his breath before letting it go slowly, sinking into the pillow under him. Virgil chucked Roman’s controller back at him, rolling his eyes.

“Shi-yikes, uh, I didn’t hit you, did I?” Roman asked, sitting up again hastily. He only just barely caught himself cursing. Virgil shook his head and stuck out his tongue at Roman, still with an infuriatingly arrogant expression. Roman dropped back down and huffed. “What’s up?” Roman asked shortly, shooting Virgil a sour look.

“I just wanted to remind you not to walk home tomorrow so you Thomas can get you for your appointment. I didn’t think reminding you in the morning would be very helpful,” Patton explained, looking with mixed interest between Roman and Virgil.

“Gotcha, find the roof access to hide from Thomas on,” Roman deadpanned and held up his thumb sarcastically.

“Whoops, now that I know, I can just tell Thomas where to look for you,” Patton said cheekily, tapping his chin with an airy smile.

“Drats, I should know better than to share my evil schemes by now,” Roman snapped jokingly. “Can I go back to punching Virgil in the face now?” He asked hopefully. He was still raring to go.

“In the _game_ , right?” Patton arched an eyebrow and Roman didn’t know if the question was serious or not.

“No, in _reality_ , where I can take the smugness down a notch,” Roman replied both dramatically and incredibly sarcastically. Virgil twitched with a sudden silent laugh near him. Roman’s eyes shot to the motion automatically, and he rubbed his burning eyes.

“Be nice, Roman,” Patton smiled.

“That _was_ the nice option,” Roman grinned and pushed his tongue between his teeth. “Seriously, though, I’m in the zone,” He nodded to the TV.

“Go ahead,” Patton got up and waved to them cheerily. Virgil knocked with an even pace three times and put his hand back on the controller, and unpaused when he hit ‘one’ in his head. He had only lost about what he should have, so Virgil was particularly honourable about the game, even though most other people would have sunk a few more hits instead of dropping his combo right away. Or maybe it was another power move, and he was showing off his reflexes. Either way, Virgil was going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 29 Warnings:  
>  Gun Reference, Sneaking out, Crimes (Vandalism), Gross Art (of Bodily Secretions), Food, Self-Worth Issues, Negative Self-Image, Negative Self-Talk, Invasions of Privacy Mention, Facetious Threats of Violence, Video Game Violence
> 
> — ✪ —
> 
> The boys do doth vibe.


	30. breaking news, teen has issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman doesn't want to participate, but, well, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Warnings and Notice in the End Notes

Roman had been dreading this for a long time. It didn’t feel like a doctor’s office as much in here. The room was actually bright and cheery. There was _Spongebob_ playing on the TV and it was well lit with windows that had pastel blue sheer curtains. But it was still a doctor’s office. The one Roman had been afraid of for ages, sitting in a pit in his stomach. Thomas was in the chair next to him in the waiting room reading something on his phone. Well, while Roman waited. He wanted to go in alone, and Thomas was fine with that.

“Go on in, Mr. Reinhart, he’s almost ready,” The receptionist said after another person his age came out of the room. Thomas rubbed his back while he swallowed nervously. Roman nodded to Thomas and got up to head into the office.

The room was… not what he was expecting. It didn’t look like an inch of the place was free of cartoon memorabilia. It was much homier than the sterile doctor’s offices he was used to. Well, cozy for a massive cartoon nerd, at least. Roman had seen enough cartoons while babysitting that he recognized most of them. He sat on the big brown couch against the arm. It was soft, but Roman didn’t appreciate the way it creaked when he shifted.

“Ba- _ba-da-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba_ ,” A voice trilled from behind the door. Roman jumped at the sudden noise and stared in disbelief at the guy in a bubblegum pink tie and tan cardigan standing behind it. He continued singing a little quieter behind the door, shoving his arms through the crack like some kind of eldritch beast. What the absolute fuck was happening and how the hell does he stop it?

“Hello, I’m Dr. Picani! Do you how do?” He spoke cheerily as he plopped down in a large plush chair right across from the couch. Roman blinked at him for a moment. “Did I dazzle ya too much?” He asked brightly, tilting his head. The strong mid-western accent was surprising.

“To… say the least?” Roman replied, completely unsure of how to deal with this person. He was used to doctors being old stuffy dudes who made everything out to be a technical issue and not a problem with a human being. This was a soft 30-something guy with poofy hair and a dopey smile.

“Well, it’s nice to meetcha, Roman! Today will not be a typical session, just t’give ya a head’s up,” Dr. Picani informed him as he tapped around on a tablet.

“Yes, uh, I gathered that,” Roman nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from this absolute Jigglypuff of a human being.

“So, first thing is first. Based on what I was told by your guardians and the referral, I’ve set up some questionnaires. This’ll help me get a baseline to diagnose ya a little easier. The answers are private, only I’ll know, and I need ya to answer with as much honesty as _Applejack_. Once I have some ideas, I’ll ask ya some questions to finish narrowing it down,” Dr. Picani explained and passed over the tablet he was tapping around on.

Technology really was something. Something he wanted to burn. He hated some of these questions and wished that the combination of words didn’t even exist. He didn’t like how most of them seemed to ask for details about stuff he specifically was trying not to think about. A few questions made Roman feel like he was obtrusive, pointing out things he did in a way he hadn’t noticed before. Some of them were strange and asked if Roman thought he had magic powers or referred to something called ‘jelly legs’. He was curious about what Patton and Thomas had told the doctor. The ones about his social preferences made him wonder what they were looking for, too. Some questions were nerve-wracking in general because that meant Dr. Picani already knew to ask them. Roman’s brain felt fried by the time he handed back the tablet to the doctor.

“Why don’cha grab a water bottle while I take a quick look-see?” Dr. Picani suggested and pointed to a mini-fridge right next to the couch. Roman leaned over and opened the clear glass door to grab a bottle. He stared at the toy-covered top of the mini-fridge for a moment before he cracked the seal on the plastic bottle and took a sip.

“Is it bad?” Roman asked quietly. Dr. Picani’s face was impassive as he looked at his tablet, and that was unsettling. He expected more of a reaction.

“Well, there is one thing that is concerning, and I’ll get t’that in a minute, but your answers aren’t bad. It’s just some questions that help me narrow things down, not a gauge of _you as a person_ ,” Dr. Picani explained, looking up and meeting Roman’s eyes with a reassuring smile. Roman sighed and grabbed the throw on the couch to hold up the water bottle in his lap as he leaned back. “Alright, ya may have seen some confusing stuff on there that ya didn’t relate to, and ya don’t need t’be worried about that,” He said, tapping the tablet a few more times before putting it down.

“That’s good,” Roman replied quietly, starting to peel at the label on the bottle.

“Can ya tell me a little about your hobbies?” Dr. Picani asked, and that was a surprise. He thought he’d ask about the ‘concerning’ one first. Unless his _hobbies_ were what was worrisome?

“I like stuff I can do with my hands the most, but I’ll try whatever,” Roman tried to sound even but his voice was a scant shaky. He seemed nice enough, but Roman hoped he didn’t have to get into anything too complex today.

“How are your relationships with your friends?” Dr. Picani asked brightly.

“Ah, I just moved here,” Roman attempted to explain but didn’t have the right words for it. “Um, so, we kind of talk online sometimes,” He admitted sheepishly. Roman hadn’t been messaging much with all that had been happening, either.

“There’s nothing wrong with internet friends, kiddo! Not seeing Enzo doesn’t mean he’s not real!” Dr. Picani declared brightly, flourishing with his pen.

“Who the hell is Enzo?” Roman furrowed his brows.

“He’s probably too old a reference for you,” Dr. Picani smiled and wrote something down in his notebook. “How do ya feel when you get bored?” He continued on, and Roman was frustrated that he didn’t just explain. He’d have to google it later.

“I hate it,” Roman said intensely, pausing with his slow decimation of the water bottle to stare at the doctor emphatically.

“Would’ya say ya hate it as much as The Grinch hates _Christmas_?” Dr. Picani leaned back in the chair and made another note.

“If I could steal all the boredom from the planet and suffocate it in a sack then chuck it in a cave, I would. I’d be doing the world a favour,” Roman replied severely.

“What would ya say ya spend most of your time doing? Other than school, that is,” Dr. Picani asked, holding up his pen.

“Uh…” Roman paused. “I actually have no idea. I do stuff, I _know_ I do…” Roman dropped his head and tried to think of what the hell he wasted all of his time with, but he kept drawing a blank or coming up with answers that weren’t accurate.

“How do ya do with time?” Dr. Picani continued, and Roman was surprised he took ‘I don’t know’ as an answer. Most people refused to.

“Terribly,” Roman said glibly, looking back down at his water bottle to keep peeling off the label in a long thin strip.

“These next ones are a little uncomfy, and if ya need time to answer them, just let good ol’ Dr. Picani know, alright?” Dr. Picani asked, and Roman looked up briefly to nod in agreement. “How do ya do with emotions?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t _get_ them, I think,” Roman admitted. He knew he was bad at handling them, but he was even worse at parsing them. If Roman didn’t feel them intensely, or felt them too intensely, his emotions got muddled and incomprehensible. “I mean, uh, _understand_ them,” He corrected his statement, realizing his first statement sounded like something different than he meant.

“Would ya say ya can’t control them?” Dr. Picani continued to write in his notebook with a small scratching sound from the pen tip on the paper.

“Sometimes,” Roman chewed his lip nervously. He didn’t want to get into that. He peered up to Dr. Picani through his bangs, and he looked as pleasant as ever.

“Do ya get seemingly random mood swings that can be intense or overwhelming?” Dr. Picani’s calm way of talking about this stuff was reassuring, but Roman didn’t feel good about it. His anger issues were a sore spot for him. It sort of felt like there were things wrong with his head that were out there and he couldn’t take them back, so he could probably give in to talk about some. But he still didn’t want to admit he couldn’t control his anger out loud.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call them random,” Roman replied quietly. “I usually have a reason for getting mad… or um, sad, or whatever, and I can settle down if I try hard enough, but I’m bad at controlling myself sometimes. And I don’t swing to ‘happy’, either, if that means anything,” He explained after a short pause. Dr. Picani nodded and made another mark in his notebook.

“Do ya often worry about people abandoning you?” The doctor pushed up his thick-framed glasses with his pen.

“Oh, no, I’m used to that,” Roman chuckled and waved his hand. “I’m fine with being alone,” He added, though his tone was much less amused.

“Do ya ever feel compelled to do certain things strongly? And not compelled to eat a particularly tasty looking cookie, I mean something like a comforting ritual,” Dr. Picani twisted his pen hand in the air as he clarified.

“Kind of? I, uh, don’t know where the line is between feeling compelled and being impulsive, to be honest. I’m impulsive as fuck,” Roman explained, twisting the bottle in his hands to keep making the thin strip of the label.

“Huh,” Dr. Picani tapped his chin with his pen. “I think for the sake of this we’ll consider those distinct an’ not related, but that’s some food for thought. I would say a compulsion seems more rational than an impulsion, and that impulsions are more random,” He said thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling. It was strange that it hadn't come up before Roman. “How long d’your periods of depression last?” Dr. Picani continued on with his questions.

“What?” Roman looked up in surprise and furrowed his eyebrows at Dr. Picani.

“How long ya feel down on yourself, hopeless, and can’t bring yourself t’do things? Maybe think about how long it is between times when you can enjoy things if that helps you,” Dr. Picani elaborated and Roman still felt confused.

“Isn’t ‘periods of depression’ kind of an intense way to say I get _sad easily_?” Roman asked, wobbling his free hand at Dr. Jigglypuff.

“Roman, while I can appreciate the optimism, you scored a 23/27 on the depression screening. That’s severe depression, and with your other answers I already confirmed it. I just need t’find out if it’s major depressive disorder or not,” Dr. Picani shook his head sadly. “Ya said that some days ya wished ya were dead or sometimes think about hurting yourself. That’s not normal sadness,” He gave Roman a meaningful look.

“Oh,” Roman breathed. “Um, I need a minute,” He added and took a sip of water, staring at the floor. He kind of already knew, but it hurt to hear. Part of him thought he was being dramatic. A bigger part of him just didn’t want to think about it. Acknowledging the truth almost hurt. His chest was heavy and his brain felt burnt to a crisp. Maybe he was feeling kind of numb or it hadn’t fully sunk in. Roman exhaled and pulled at the label some more.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dr. Picani nodded and looked down at his notebook. It kind of looked like he was doodling with the big loops Roman watched his pen take. He appreciated the doctor sticking his tongue out a little as he sketched. It sort of knocked him off the mental track he was on.

How long was the last… depression episode? The last time Roman wished he was dead actively was when he went for a devil’s hour stupidity jog, but he was still fucking bummed about getting kicked out of the Finleys before then. He wasn’t sure how many days that was if he counted that.

“Um, what’s the difference between being upset about stuff in life and… that?” Roman asked, drumming his fingers on the water bottle.

“It’s the difference between Tigger and Eeyore!” Dr. Picani piped up. What? What the fuck. Roman just blinked at the pink-tied poofball who very clearly had a one track mind. “When Tigger found out he had no biological family, he was sad, but he bounced back when he realized he had found a family in his friends already after a little time to heal. On the other hand, Eeyore is sad about everything. Sure, it’s reasonable to be sad when your house falls apart, but Eeyore doesn’t feel like he can bounce back from anything,” He flicked his pen in the air as he spoke.

“Does that mean Piglet is anxiety? Was _Winnie the Pooh_ a show about mental health problems?” Roman’s eyes went wide.

“No, no,” Dr. Picani held out his palms and shook them. “But yes, Piglet shows signs of moderate anxiety. Just like you! He’s still able to do things, but he can’t help but always worry. Ya probably scored a little less than he would if he could take the screening, but enough that I am already positive ya have it,” He nodded slightly.

“Shit, how many things do I have?” Roman accidentally gripped the bottle and made a plastic-y crunching sound.

“It’s not Pokémon, Roman! It’s not about the _number_. Most mental illnesses have comorbidity. That means they come in groups. Patients who have depression have anxiety 60% of the time,” Roman didn’t have any idea what to say to that, so he looked down to the water bottle again and returned to peeling. “So, do ya know how long you’re stuck feeling down in the dumps and incapable of anything normally?”

“What? Oh, uh, I guess a week or so the last time,” Roman replied, having to take a moment to process. He was kind of distracted by the surprisingly mature themes he didn’t realize were in _Winnie the Pooh_. Did the other characters show signs of things?

“Have ya ever acted on any of your thoughts about hurting yourself or wanting t’die?” Dr. Picani asked and holy shit that question hit him like a brick, knocking him out of _Winnie the Pooh_ land in an instant and causing him to accidentally tear his water bottle label strip. “Are ya alright?”

“Yeah, uh, just a bit of emotional whiplash,” Roman muttered and rubbed his head. “I used to do the… ‘hurting yourself’ one. I also tried the other once. I don’t do either anymore,” He admitted quietly.

“I’m happy t’hear that,” Dr. Picani smiled softly, and it was so amazingly genuine Roman felt weirdly emotional over it. “I should give ya a heads-up that as a minor I’m afraid I have t’tell your guardians so they can keep an eye out for ya so you don’t fall into those dangerous coping mechanisms again or make a dangerous decision while you’re having a depressive episode,” He sounded a little remorseful about that. “Well, if you promise you haven’t done it in a long time and know you won’t do it again, I will let it slide for now unless I see some concerning behaviors,” Dr. Picani added.

“I… honestly don’t think they’ll be surprised. I don’t want to bother them or anything but I had a _reason_ for starting and if it comes up I’m not sure what I’ll do. And I don’t like feeling… well,” Roman shook his head. He couldn’t really finish his thought, but he hoped the doctor understood enough. He grunted in frustration when the label strip tore and he had to start a new thin strip.

“So you’re not worried about your guardians reacting badly?” Dr. Picani asked kindly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m safe at home. They’ll freak out, but I let it slip this weekend and I pissed off my brother and he kind of got told me off, so I dunno… I feel like I should listen to him. The foster parents freaking out just means I have to sit in the living room instead of my bedroom. It’s not the worst,” Roman shrugged dismissively. He was probably going to play that fighting game on the TV, anyway. He wanted more practice. Roman returned to peeling at the label of the water bottle to make a long, thin strip.

“Well, barring the results of a blood test, I think we’ve got our diagnosis, Robin!” Dr. Picani announced, holding his pen aloft proudly. “I’ll have your guardian take you for labs, but I can tentatively tell you now if ya like. If ya think you might not want t’hear it, we can put it off until next time. We can also just discuss what t’do moving forward and not name ‘em for now,” Dr. Picani gave him his options as he started writing on a new page.

“Tell me,” Roman responded quietly. He couldn’t take not knowing.

“Severe depression and moderate anxiety, which I already mentioned, are two of them. I’d like to test your serotonin and dopamine levels to see if we should consider medications. With severe depression I generally recommend it, but prescribing things to teenagers can be tricky,” Dr. Picani said distractedly.

“I’d rather not go on meds,” Roman blurted out.

“Roman, there’s nothing wrong with medication. It’s here to help ya feel more functional and capable. It doesn’t change who you are, and if it makes you feel a way ya don’t like, we can stop. There’re plenty to try,” Dr. Picani tried to reassure him, but he’d still avoid it if he could. That was another thing he’d owe the Sanders and need going forward from any other foster parents and he couldn’t stomach the thought right now.

“I just _don’t_ ,” Roman insisted, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll respect your wishes, that’s a part of therapy too. If things become worse or ya don’t respond to therapy, I’ll likely recommend them again. Sometimes your brain chemical stew needs the help an’ there’s nothing wrong with that,” Dr. Picani reassured him. Roman paused, feeling astonished once more. This ridiculous pink person kept doing that. He thought he’d get forced to take them if a doctor wanted him to.

“Thanks,” Roman nodded and took a sip from the bottle he was halfway through shredding the label off.

“Alright, the next one I think ya already know. Your guardians picked me because I have a specialty in PTSD, so I assume something came up. They mentioned you have panic attacks and disassociate. Ya also scored 100% on the screening. However, I think it may be C-PTSD. I’d need t’talk to ya more, but I’m pretty positive based on your medical record alone,” Dr. Picani tapped the top of his notebook twice as he talked before resuming his writing.

“What’s the difference?” Roman asked, hoping the variation wasn’t even worse than what he’d already found out about it. Roman didn’t want to look it up online and see how fucked up he was.

“C-PTSD is usually the result of extended, long-term trauma. Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has a few more symptoms associated with it. You have an idea about emotional distress and physical symptoms for PTSD, right?” Dr. Picani started to explain. Roman nodded for him to continue. “C-PTSD also includes an inability to regulate emotions, extreme guilt, and a distorted perception of events. Your questionnaire reflects part of that, but your guardians mentioned those, too. If you’re not ready t’talk about that, don’t worry, we won’t be doing that today,” He said markedly, nodding a little.

“Oh,” Was all Roman could think of to say. If his brain was fried before, it was burnt now. He didn’t know how to process this, and he wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ to.

“Remember how we talked about co-morbidity? I checked for a few more things while I was at it. There’re a few disorders that have lots of overlap. Ya scored enough on Bi-Polar and Borderline Personality Disorder for me t’double check, but ya don’t seem t’believe ya have drastic mood swings, both from your own statement and the questions. I think you know you the most and if that’s not something you struggle with, I trust your opinion over what the questionnaire implies. As for BPD, you’re possibly too glib about people leaving ya, even if ya seem t’have troubles with similar symptoms. I may change my diagnosis later if I see certain things, of course, it’s all a process. The blood tests will help with that too, but I’ve been working with these disorders for a while and I recognize the signs. That leaves attention deficit hyperactivity disorder,” He explained evenly.

“Like _Percy Jackson_?” Roman perked up. He was a little lost there for a minute, but he at least had a general idea of what that was.

“Well, not _exactly_ ,” Dr. Picani shook his head. “The representation in those books isn’t _super-duper_ accurate,” He made a circle with his pen in the air.

“Yeah, but _like Percy Jackson_?” Roman asked again, finally finding something he could feel okay about.

“Yes, but only in a sense,” Dr. Picani agreed tentatively. “I take it ya like the books?” He asked as he resumed writing.

“Hell yeah, I like the books!” Roman sat up straighter. “Percy’s so awesome and I can appreciate all the ‘bad parents’ jokes and sword fights,” He nodded brightly.

“Well, as I said, the representation isn’t _realistic_ , but it’s helpful to have an idea, nonetheless! There're two kinds of ADHD, inattentive and hyperactive. Ya scored almost evenly for both, which means you're the’ combined type,”

“I thought you said there were _two_?” Roman arched a brow at Dr. Picani.

“What can I say other than sometimes medical terminology is confusing,” Dr. Picani shrugged. “I assume ya also don’t want medication for ADHD?” He asked while he started writing in the notebook. Roman nodded mutely, not looking up. “Alright, then once again we’ll be putting extra emphasis on lifestyle changes,” Dr. Picani held up his pen and jiggled it a little in the air as he announced it dramatically.

“Does this mean I have to cut out sugar? Because I just got a bag of skittles and I’m finishing it,” Roman said emphatically, narrowing his eyes at Dr. Jigglypuff.

Dr. Picani laughed, looking surprised. “No, the idea that sugar makes ADHD symptoms worse is a myth. And caffeine can help in some instances, too, it’s not detrimental. You shouldn’t over-indulge in either, and with your issues, I’m going to recommend no more than 150 milligrammes a day and no later than 4 PM for now. Don’t go over that and try to keep it under five days a week. Prolonged caffeine consumption can cause migraines, and you’re already at risk for those,” He pointed out.

“I am?” Roman asked curiously.

“Yup! Depression and C-PTSD can both give migraines. That’s about three cups of black tea or a cup and a half of coffee for those of you playing along at home, by the way,” Dr. Picani winked at Roman, pointing at his eye with his pen.

“You are an absolutely bizarre person,” Roman blinked at him.

“Thank you! I am a perky Pikachu! And don’t worry, I am recording all of this down for ya and the guardians,” Dr. Picani flipped his notebook to show a sheet with a long list of bullet points. There was a sketch of Buttercup from the older _Power Puff Girls_ cartoon on the other side. He flipped it back and returned to writing. Yup. Roman’s brain was absolutely a charcoal briquette, because he had no idea why he was laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30 Warnings:  
> Doctors, Therapy, Self-Harm Mention, Mental Illness Discussion, Suicidal Ideation, Self-Gaslighting, Suicide Attempt Mention, Refusal of Medication, Food Mention, Negative Self-Image, Negative Self-Talk, Blood Mention, Food Mention
> 
> — ✪ —
> 
>  **Notice: This is a work of fiction and not intended to be used as a diagnostic.**   
> Please do not use this fic as a baseline for your own mental health and do your own research if these things sound familiar to you. I will provide some resources but please **do not ask me** , I only have an associates in psychology and am not a professional. I will delete comments with symptoms or an explanation of your trauma, just to keep the fic as safe as possible. 
> 
> Online Screening Resources:   
> [Depression](https://screening.mhanational.org/screening-tools/depression) \- [Anxiety](https://patient.info/doctor/generalised-anxiety-disorder-assessment-gad-7) \- [BPD](https://psychcentral.com/quizzes/borderline-test) \- [Bipolar](https://screening.mhanational.org/screening-tools/bipolar) \- [ADHD](https://psychcentral.com/quizzes/adhd-quiz) \- [PTSD](https://adaa.org/screening-posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd)  
> Diagnostic screening is intended to be used by a therapist or psychiatrist to help you with your issues and is not a home diagnosis method. However, you can use these to see if you need to bring up a possible diagnosis for these conditions with your therapist/psychiatrist.   
> More about CPTSD: [1](https://www.healthline.com/health/cptsd#symptoms) \- [2](https://www.outofthestorm.website/)  
> Also, while this story doesn't contain DID/OSDD, it's linked with childhood trauma, [here's a resource for that too](https://did-research.org/comorbid/dd/osdd_udd/did_osdd.html%22).   
> Also here's the [The difference between sadness and depression](https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-squeaky-wheel/201510/the-important-difference-between-sadness-and-depression) and information on [If you've been gaslit](https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/power-in-relationships/200905/are-you-being-gaslighted).
> 
> — ✪ —
> 
> Part of healing is recognizing that you are hurt and Roman is very bad at that, so this chapter felt necessary to me. Otherwise, I wouldn't risk posting something like this. So please, remember that this is _fiction_ and I, nor Dr. Picani, are your therapist. As cathartic as it might be to see Roman heal, you will need to take care of yourself and work on yourself if you want to get there with him. Good luck!
> 
> Also, final chapter comment as the author and not just from the concerned void dragon: Writing Dr. Picani is _very hard_ and I understand why his characterization is often off in fanfic. Like, wow. I've been agonizing over this for ages and his characterization is still off other than the things I tweaked to fit the story better. I guess if he's not talking about one show for the majority it doesn't feel right.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, concerns, incoherent screaming, quotes you just liked, and memes all welcome in the comment section below. Even an extra <3 kudos is greatly appreciated! I am emotionally validated by inbox notifications. Also, they help me remember to take notes on stuff I forgot or fix problems in the next chapter, so they help me write! [Max](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxIsOnline/profile) helped come up with some of the chapter titles!
> 
> [Story Discord Server](https://discord.gg/ThcDBSP)
> 
> Asks accepted on my Tumblr: [@onthevirgeofdestruction](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/onthevirgeofdestruction/)
> 
> ♪ [Dreaming While I Wake Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3jzYg1nfqsYjojt0jVV6Tc?si=OWyPj86zT6KdCxr-anOOvw) ♪
> 
> ♫ [Dreaming While I Wake Song](https://ocremix.org/remix/OCR01205) ♫ 
> 
> If you like my writing at want more suffering children content while you wait for chapter updates, I've got two more options for you. [**A Whole Castle**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402835) is a prompt driven foster-to-adoption series that's mostly hurt/comfort and much fluffier than Dreaming (though the bar is low). If you want suffering teens that take _themselves_ out of a bad situation (with fantasy elements), check out the [**Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687501). If you're suffering and just need fluff to recover, check out [**Plea for my New Self**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807720) a vampire/college au that is just fluff and hurt/comfort and chaotic gays content. There's also some [**Shorts**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243988) to cleanse your pallate with if you aren't down for 100k+ of gay vampire madness. I hope you had fun suffering!


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